For a Palestinian Child, with Butterflies
by Michael R. Burch

Where does the butterfly go ...
when lightning rails ...
when thunder howls ...
when hailstones scream ...
when winter scowls ...
when nights compound dark frosts with snow ...
where does the butterfly go?

Where does the rose hide its bloom
when night descends oblique and chill,
beyond the capacity of moonlight to fill?
When the only relief’s a banked fire’s glow,
where does the butterfly go?

And where shall the spirit flee
when life is harsh, too harsh to face,
and hope is lost without a trace?
Oh, when the light of life runs low,
where does the butterfly go?

Published by Tucumcari Literary Review, Romantics Quarterly, Poetry Life & Times, Victorian Violet Press (where it was nominated for a “Best of the Net”), The Contributor (a Nashville homeless newspaper), Siasat (Pakistan), and set to music as a part of the song cycle “The Children of Gaza” which has been performed in various European venues by the Palestinian soprano Dima Bawab. Keywords/Tags: butterfly, children, storm, lightning, thunder, hailstones, snow, frost, night, shelter, comfort, safety, rose, fire, warmth, Holocaust, Nakba, Gaza, Trail of Tears, slavery, injustice, abuse, ethnic cleansing, genocide

The Aery Faery Princess
by Michael R. Burch

for Keira

There once was a princess lighter than fluff
made of such gossamer stuff—
the down of a thistle, butterflies’ wings,
the faintest high note the hummingbird sings,
moonbeams on garlands, strands of bright hair ...
I think she’s just you when you’re floating on air!

Keywords/Tags: child, children, humor, light verse, princess, fairy, gossamer, thistle, butterfly, hummingbird, moonbeams, floating, flying

i’ve used three poems worth of words trying to describe you
to capture you
cos that’s what i do
try to capture things...
feelings, emotions, memories
chasing little things on the wind

and actually i think it is a good thing that i can’t write you down
because the things that i capture -
they’re pretty. but they’re pinned down
and there’s something ironic about a butterfly in a glass case

you’ve used up three poems worth of words in me
and i’ve tried writing about literally everything else but
all trains of thought go back to back and wind their way to you
like roads to Rome

i like the ache of knowing for sure that i’ll lose you
and that we will only cross paths for a short while
whether they’re pavements or cobbled streets or the side of the motorway
they only touch. and then move away

you’ve drawn three poems worth of words from me
and i have ten more waiting in the wings like 13 year old ballet dancers
stepping on each other’s toes
whispering in each other’s ears
all contrived and all unique
like you and i

So I’ve wrote another poem to describe you
But it’s impossible to describe the way you feel
Is this what love is like? Trying endlessly to write on sand before the waves arrive
Before the sea comes, you leave and the beach is smooth again.

how much longer will I wait for butterflies bursting red at the wings, fiery orange curling their tips into flames

today is long and heavy like the space before a goodbye
i watch a moss-backed turtle float on clouds above the water and I think of you,
of coiled garter snakes and soft pink sunsets, of warm lentil soup and white zinfadel and fern forests and I know,
I would not be enough for you

settled in the space between sun and moon I am two parts water, one part fire,
I am boiling hot springs set on a river deep, bubbling and breaking and gasping for air,
I am summer thunderstorm, hot rain and violent life and love without control,
I am ocean fissure, the space between, red hot lava shifting slowly like a lover beneath the sheets
I am self-contradiction, all crab-shell and shape-shifter and the answerer of my own questions,
I am crystal cave heart and loose leaf mind, waterfall eyes and moonshine smile, you cannot tame me but you cannot let me go

'But I can't fly'
Said the
Buttetfly-to-be.
'Oh my dear,
One day you will
And you'll do it
Beautifully'.

A Butterly ***** its wings

Warm air stirs

Clouds rise

Temperature drops

Rain begins

Seeds move in the earth

Dry rivers fill their bellies

Landlocked fish dance to the sea

The ocean moves

Cool air stirs

Storms rage

Clouds appear

And somewhere

A butterfly ***** its wings!

and after crying for hours about the decisions you made all by yourself
i cannot do anything than keep my mouth shut and silently hope for a butterfly to fly by