9. Wheedle Away
Beg for a smile
from the cracked chrysalis.
This rebirth is not
an improvement. They attempt
to encourage the baby steps,
view the progress as growth,
but the violet is okay
with smallness. Nothingness
is a more attainable goal.
The butterfly is burning.
They fan the flames, feel
the heat like unrequited desire,
hold the trembling evidence,
blow the ashes away,
& still refuse to believe.
Crawling back into the womb,
retreating, is the key
to beginner’s healing. But they
drag the fragile out into the sun
to air the hurts for their own
raking. Poking, prodding
the flower to bring forth a flutter.
A tiny heart shudders. The final
scream remains unheard.
This is how coaxing kills.
This is how a transformation
is halted. This is how
a sickness devours. Slowly,
tenderly. A binding
with no release. This is how
a true death should be.
Photo by Marek Piwnicki
Thistle Thoughts 