i remember me and you, the you who is underneath
the failing heart, smoke brained; the sister dunking you,
the you who took me fishing.
and helped me rescue a butterfly on the beach
whose wings were wet and was half buried
in the sand...you held it in your fumbling hands
until it could move again
and we watched it fly away. if it wasn't for us,
that butterfly would have died.
now you are
the butterfly; you sit in God's hands.