Sunday, March 10, 2013

Blaming the Butterflies

The Echo of What Remains Collected Poems of Wanda Lea Brayton

We flutter far and wide across this earth,
bearing messages from beyond 
to those who grieve, forlorn.

We feed our frail spirits on nectar,
a substance you do not perceive as sustenance - 
yet, our own strength and fragility is maintained
by its essence of light.

We drink very little, 
just what we must in order to drift,
to help alter the face of a sorrowful world,
one that seems to forget 
the presence of beauty too often, too easily.

Our wings do not stir the wind too strenuously 
or cause wild storms to ravage our beloved landscape;
we only bring remnants of solace
to its aftermath
that we breathe in mere whispers, alone.