It is over a year now since I wrote a little poem titled butterflies. It is the time of year that butterflies may be spotted again, flitting around and alighting on flowers. Butterflies can signify so many things: beauty, transformation, lightness, diversity, to name a few.
Beauty and transformation fascinate me, particularly transformation into beauty. We need transformation and we need beauty. On the days that I feel particularly ugly or caterpillar-like (in behaviour/thought/appearance, whatever level of human existence) even the hope of the possiblity of transformation gives me reason breathe into the transformation. On other days, of course, I feel that celebration of the reality of this transformation to be perfectly appropriate!
I have shared this poem with some friends before. Today I want to publish the poem for a friend in particular, who spoke of butterflies and childhood and transformation all in one breath.
I believe the butterflies,
The One who made them, He is wise.
A creature made for transformation
from a crawling lowly station
into hiding, resting, sleeping
to be revealed and fly on wings.
Wings of beauty, full of colours
so different to so many others
Why such beauty? we may wonder
To what purpose? we may ponder
In childlike sweetness, the answer may be
“Let’s watch them Mommy!
They’re very pretty.”
And these are just the butterflies…
how about the clouds and light that paint the skies?
so much beauty for our eyes to see
But will we see?
Dare we look?
On the One who made it and then took
our place and penalty at Calvary
In Christ we have our crysalis
Which is simply this
we can also die this death
then have new Life
His Spirit, His breathe.