The flowers are alive today.
And butterflies. If you are hurt,
don’t forget the meadow.
Go tired, bring your heart.
Those who watch there
are quiet and constant.
They know we are connected
cell to cell
and, if you are lucky,
you may see a swallowtail—
point it out quickly
to a friend and find,
in the instant of your
turn,
that it has vanished.
But it saw you.
Don’t despair.
The small things do return.
Yesterday, a swallowtail
came back and settled
near my dress,
the faded one
with pink flowers
worn past its time.
It was a garden
to a butterfly—
dizzy, ecstatic,
loving color
and oblivious to the stories
of my life.
It stayed until
I found my heart;
then, spread its wings,
flew home.
If I laid flat
in this very wild place,
I would be nursed
by a whole community
of curious insects
with quick eyes
and ministering wings.
There is something
that sees before sight,
and sometimes the
small ones see it best.
There is something
that loves before love,
before even the heart knows.
~Maria Shine Stewart~
image source: tumblr.com
Psyche & Society 