After gashing her soul through yesterday’s mirror
her blood spilled in fallow fields
nurturing tomorrow’s sacred grove
whose leaves swirled around her rising form.
Her body settled into the low spaces
placing her life on hold.
into a kaleidoscope of mourning cloaks
whose collective fluttering murmured
liniment across a darkened sky,
surprised into night by a flight of butterflies.
Brenda Warren 2014
Note: The Mourning Cloak is a butterfly; it is also Montana’s state insect.
Thank you to Tess at The Mag for the ekphrastic inspiration.
Evocative and lovely…
There is a way of surviving adversity certainly! Great write Brenda!
i like the concept of sacrifice for nurturing and growth as well as thoughts as myriads butterflies taking wings to dispel darkness….
Wonderful imagery in this, Brenda. Thanks for letting me in on the Mourning Cloak.
What a solemn threnody.. black butterflies we have in Sweden too.. and they have the same name “sorgmantel” — and it seems to be the same butterfly..
I like the last few lines. They create a magical mental image.