“how to write a poem: catch the air around a butterfly”

‘Danaus plexippus (i)’ — Acrylic on Canvas { by Lisa Roberts } 2006

Glancing back over my shoulder, the year behind me is a chrysalis. At the time, it felt less like a restful growing and preparing for flight and freedom, than a  tightly claustrophobic, inescapable nightmare. But now, that chrysalis is beautiful to me.

My child’s 6 weeks of school holidays at home with me was a blessed frustration — time to work, craft and dream played a spiteful little game of hide-and-seek with me —- a game which I tried desperately not to play: out of that relentless, shameful mother-guilt of wanting time to simply be me, and torn the other way into swimming down deep into the magical, mysteriously beautiful ocean my child.

Moths and butterflies have always captivated me. For their fragility, and fleetingness of life. The miraculous meaning of their life-cycle. And what we can learn from the perfect blue-print of nature…

“…a butterfly is like the soul of a person, it dries out in captivity.”     { Marlene van Niekerk, Agaat }

“You can only chase a butterfly for so long.”  { Jane Yolen, Prince Across the Water }