Gypsy Butterfly

Home was warm and so protective
A cocoon that kept me in and life out
Its limitations comfortable
The only thorn, self doubt

A quick turn of destiny
So I changed and with change grew
Shunning the entrapment once my safety
I shed the shell; I had broken through

But the outside world proved hostile
Where my wings would not survive
My spirit bore the yoke of fear
Enraged I couldn't thrive

Patterned wings soon faded
Dreams suspended in mid air
I soon became a label
Are butterflies supposed to care?

From manufactured picture cards
The sky never looked quite right
And the barrier to the future
Has become my fear of flight

I don't really like to delve too much into the more horrific details of my past, the painful memories. They will always be there. Not even the most magical yellow feather could take them away. In some ways I am glad of them. They haven't made me stronger, as the old cliche would suggest. They have however - made me who I am today. And I am not displeased with that. I think one of the things that I am able to contribute to relationships, and others, is the sharing of process, the process of overcoming internal strife, living in a hellish dark snake pit and coming through the other side into the light, and occasionally, fearlessly going back to visit .... just for old times sake. Humour helps, especially when you 'wake up' and realize you've lost a day or two or more. What I like the best today, is that I am not afraid for people to see the failures & successes, past or present, because I know that underneath is a very solid bedrock -and that from the failures or otherwise will come something worthwhile that will benefit everyone, or at the very least, give me greater insights.

Hope you all are having a great day. P.S. ...whatever happened to Andy??? ... probably lost and living in NYC ..likely a studio apartment in Greenwich village, huge eisels with abstract paintings, the room divided by floor coverings and minor elevation changes, Joni Mitchell plays in the background (not a record, she's really there!) ... her hair is unwashed and she is devoid of makeup ..... the sound is raw, my skin chills with goosebumps.

Careening and bouncing from one beautiful place to another. Never leaving the confines of my
thoughts. Free, free. Free to let my mind wander and meander at all the speeds and places it desires. Resting and still racing. I peer into your eyes and see the history of your travels. I see the essence of you.