vulnerable

To my dear friend and muse, Mariya Andriychuk, whose photo of herself with a butterfly shows that there are more forms of commonality than taxonomy, and that things that seem frail and vulnerable are given to gifts that we, earthbound as we are, often cannot comprehend.

Once again she inspires a new work to my Fields of Arbol.

vulnerable

she is so delicate, so frail,
and yet she has wings that let her sail
far and across the weeping sky,
something impossible for you or I
unless we release our fears,
and struggle free of our cocoons of tears
that wrap and sap and trap and bind,
vulnerable to those who find
sport in making pain for beautiful things
that by their very nature have wings
they can never touch or have or hold
their wings unearned, their spirits, cold.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.