Fly, Butterfly, Fly

I don’t want to confuse you.

This piece is about one my closest friends, nicknamed “Sexy Chocolate”. She is my second wife, whom I married at the ripe old age of 23. Sadly, we were broken up by stupidity, and actually at each other’s throats until the day of our divorce. We come out the courthouse, ate at Uno’s Pizzeria at Union Station, saw a movie, and we’ve been homies ever since. Through every marriage and divorce I had. Through every marriage and divorce she had (you think *I* was on a marrython? This woman gots me beat!). Through the births of our children. Through heartbreaks, mistakes and misfortune…

Anyway, wifey #2 has been battling cancer for several years and I’ve been hanging with her through it all, even offering to take care of her despite having a love interest at the time (nothing ill-intentioned by it). I won’t go much further into this thing, but it inspired this piece and I hope you can understand. Losing a good friend is difficult to do. So let’s just leave it at that.

 

 

her colors brighten

memories peppered with gray hues

sunny yellows

fiery reds

singing blues

 

inching through life like a caterpillar

doing what only she can do

passing from tree to tree

branches

leaves

yet

always finds her way

back to me

 

she first blossomed in my morning

and still graces my nights

we are connected

by an old injury

a trick bone that seemed to

never heal

even in the dark

where dreams shine

we are never alone

her dazzling colors amaze

smile sings a song

never fades–even in the dawn–

she

remains

strong.

 

slowly,

closing her eyes

wrapping herself for a long winter

cocoon covering dull colors,

who she used to be,

we always remember

this lovely caterpillar

cloaked in spun wool

holding in those beautiful colors

the kind that seems to blind

finding stories of adventures

chasing dreams

seems this inching worm

was born to fly.

 

and the dew of the morning

like a cool mist

makes the black even brighter

the smile even wider

we will miss her

this Beautiful Black Butterfly

who has yet to bloom

bursting out

spread those wings

Sexy Chocolate

my number two

(but always number One)

Perhaps…

 

Perhaps we will see each other

in some far away time

in the stories I recite

deep, recessed in my mind

when I was still catching butterflies

and let the Black one get away

my heart grips a net full

of memories of you and I–

 

I

I love you selfishly, but

the Wind is whispering for you:

My Love,

Fly.

 

 

© 2011

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10 Comments

Filed under Poetry

10 responses to “Fly, Butterfly, Fly

  1. peak365

    I love the subtle rhyme in it; it maintains a great rhythm. And the metaphor, of course. (:

    Good luck to your friend!

  2. Miss Forward

    i stumbled on this site looking for an article about parenthood and POW! Right in the kisser. Oh my God this was beautiful! Actually made me cry! You’ve just made a new fan!!!

  3. alma

    It’s really sad that so many people wait till loved ones are in jail, sick, or dieing before they are able to profess their true feelings…

  4. Tee

    Gosh this tears at my heart Mustafa. Loved it.

  5. H.C.

    What a beautiful poem. Simply, beautiful.

  6. Soror Lynn

    Please continue to express yourself through your writing. Don’t allow these emotions to be unspoken.

  7. I should add, everyone, that she finally passed away April 17, 2014…

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