Vignette 18.
Sprayed on high
as an azulejo
I fly,
a man-butterfly.
The Hopis say why
in the cocoon
I die
in total darkness
why I lie
completely broken down.
When I emerge
breathe and sigh
I do not immediately
start to fly
I sit there
to dye
myself
in water
in air
in fire
in earth.
My wings start
fluttering
toward the sky,
gathering strength
to vie
with the currents.
My agile wisdom
shows you
your oneness
with one another
as I spy
on you
with my little eye
and pollinate
the whole of creation.
These killings
of Innocents
are
inscrutable
ways to pry
beauty out of
continuous change
and save
the next seven generations.
I spread my pollen
wonder
hope
compassion
faith
charity.
In these words
I record for you
my silent cry,
a man-butterfly,
Povolhoya.
When I visit flowers
I produce their scent.
It attracts the opposite
sex.
Will you draw nigh?
Will you ply
your world
with my nectar–
wonder
hope
compassion
faith
charity?
Try?
