The Butterfly

a lyrical meditative poem

tiny bells chime on each ankle as i step closer…
the flowers feel alive around me,
i feel them smiling at each other as their warmth illuminates the garden,
i think they are bowing their heads as i pass…
tiny butterflies dancing on air around me,
one is circling my smoke filled hair strands of sandalwood,
she seems to be intoxicated by the scent,
although she’s not the only one…
i see the eyes of a soft man take refuge in mine,
and he tells me…

he feels my soul through butterflies
and i smile thinking this could be true
i am in all the earth
and butterflies can feel me too

the way they float by like tiny mirages of the sky
like iridescent angels that catch your senses only for an inhale
elusive, the way they manage to be seen and unseen between breaths
nothing about them conforms to the norm

and i am this
i am the butterflies
how did he know that i am them?
or could it be
that they are me?

their greatest love is the flowers
and the flowers they love me too
they are everywhere in my mind
decorating every inch
i think of one and it appears

this must be how the butterfly thinks
that flower was not there
until the thought of that butterfly bloomed
butterfly thoughts making flowers bloom?

could it be
that this is true?
that their soul is mine
and mine is theirs too?

do they live because the mind imagines them?
when i’m hurt they disappear
and when i laugh they reappear
do grateful minds bring butterflies near?

could it be
that they are me?


- Noor Attia