Butterflying Poem by gershon hepner

If only I could hang upon
the present just as transient butterflies
hang on bright flowers, songs the swan
is said to sing before it swoons and dies
would mean far less to me. I’d try
to focus only on my life, and death
would leave me cold for, butterflying, I
would always swoon, swan-diving in your breath.

Inspired by a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Mariposa

Butterflies are white and blue
In this field we wander through.
Suffer me to take your hand.
Death comes in a day or two.

All the things we ever knew
Will be ashes in that hour,
Mark the transient butterfly,
How he hangs upon the flower.

Suffer me to take your hand.
Suffer me to cherish you
Till the dawn is in the sky.
Whether I be false or true,
Death comes in a day or two.


1/24/09