Let Me Flutter

Let Me Flutter

A broken wing
—still it fluttered.
The passage of unmarked time.

A soft veil torn beneath skin.

A gentle hand dove in
weaving torn strands
clinging to this limb.

Round and round
a cocoon formed
holding a branch clinging
to this living tree of being.

A wing, a limb, a branch,
a tree—
each separate and, yet one.

The vessel within flutters…
flying is not in sight.

Each miniscule motion
strengthens the internal
transformation
unseen and proceeding.

Rest…a sudden surge.
It is not time, it is not
time we are making.

Now are the faint moments
where accomplishing nothing
becomes the masterpiece forming.

Please do not rush
this process.

Do not wish it over
before it has begun.

Let me flutter.