The Undernourished Butterfly (a prose poem)

in #poetry8 years ago (edited)


Yes, I did

spread my wings. 

I did not 

technically

fold into myself, as other

broken butterflies do.


Technically I was able to metamorphosize into

something new, into a

more beautiful

more fluid version of myself.

But no, I did not completely

evolve.


From grubby, slow caterpillar

to cocoon, to swan-like butterfly, I am still 

clumsy, heavy

and slow.

At times I miss out

on the sweet nectar for lack of

readiness,

afraid to herald the flower

or float amongst the bees.


I am a butterfly, yes,

but inside I am still cocoon.

Still caterpillar.

Still egg.


The damage done 

eons ago

still sticks to my wings

like heavy syrup, holding me

down.


Sometimes I do not

want to

fly.