Letters (07/27/09)

To a butterfly,

Butterfly, you ever morphing and fragile creature, shift your sights to somewhere else. Dash where there are bright, white clouds amid a sea of blue. Your flimsy frame that withstood torrential rains in your past lives will no longer endure another downpour.

"If you cannot fly above the clouds, stay away from the rain," a whispering Amihan said. You listened, albeit useless, because this was something you already knew.

Staying away from the rain is something that you've mastered but never lived.

For your withering wings, stop your illusions of brightly colored rainbows at every end.

To the rain,

You whose fluttering lashes birth violent waves beneath the ocean floor, you break brittle winged creatures over and over again. How many lifetimes does a minuscule butterfly need to live and relive to soar higher than your fatal cold drops?

It is wrong to beg you to seize from kissing the face of the Earth since it is your very nature to fall. Instead, fall somewhere else where your fertile womb can yield fruits in the driest of lands. Pierce another but a butterfly’s heart and hands.

Without you knowing, the illusions of a warm you will soon fade like a mirage in a desert.

©Grace Ramos