50 little butterflies are
Trapped beneath the mud.
Buried under the debris
and out of sight,
But not out of mind.
So what clue, Butterfly?
What message can you send?
What proof remains
To help us render your justice?
Oh, how I'd like to
Return your old wings to you
Unbroken and washed clean.
I'd like to watch you all return to life
and ARISE!
ARISE!
50 new butterflies
Come out of hibernation
Come out of those
Cocoons you didn’t spin.
All at once
You’d leap victoriously back to the air
Like little phoenixes emerging from little flames.
With an enormous flap of wings
You’d hammer out your vengeance and
Deliver yourselves from evil.
Oh, that you'd be safer up there
Happier up there
At last out in the air
I'd like to see your rainbow colours once again
Against a careless blue sky.
Rebellious of spirit and wandering of feet
As always you’d been.
And I’d wish that next time perchance
You’d land on
Some nice Flower Patch
Someplace else.
***
This poem is dedicated to the 50+ missing women from
Vancouver's Downtown East Side.
My heart and thoughts go out to the friends and families of these women.