Beyond Blue reader and group member Marquos (find his homepage here) beautifully expresses this journey of coming to love yourself in his poem, "Butterfly Fields," which I found on his blog (http://madspirituality.blogspot.com). He's a beautiful writer, and I think many of you will be touched by his other posts as well.
Butterfly Fields
I’ve looked for myself in the eyes of the street,
Seeking to fill the emptiness
I seem to have always known
With a glance, a smile and a nod
From someone I’ve never known.
I look for some reflection
Of the me I hope they see.
I reach out with my eyes
To touch someone,
Ask them to touch me.
And once in a while the mirror
Is bright and shines myself back
To me.
Most often though,
The faces just go
On by.
And I wonder what it is about me
That no one wants to see.
Perhaps I really am different,
Odd as I’ve always thought.
Perhaps it shows in my face,
This worthlessness I feel.
Empty, odd, worthless, lonely.
Nothing I do, no one I use,
Nowhere I go seems to satisfy me.
I look deep inside and all I can find
Is a big black hole,
And fields of butterflies.
Perhaps this fluttering emptiness can’t be filled
by anything out there.
It’s a deep, black hole,
Never quite mending,
Always demanding to be filled.
Never satisfied,
It changes it’s shape
From hunger to sadness to euphoria
To anger to anxiety to arrogance
To madness.
I’ve sought to feed the Hole
With any thing I could.
My friends, my family,
My youth, my future,
My heart.
I sacrificed everything to fill it
And seemed to only feed the emptiness.
And the fields of butterflys.
Now I’m sure this fluttering emptiness can’t be filled
By anything out there.
So tomorrow I’ll walk down the street
and remain inside myself.
Perhaps someone might wonder
what’s up with me for a change.
I’ll not look around
For I know what I need can’t be found
Out there.
For what I thought was a hole
That needed to be filled
Is actually a place,
Where God has lived all along.
All my demons I projected upon him
Odd, worthless, angy, mad demons,
And he has received all this stuff
And somehow turned it to good.
What I took for emptiness
Was stillness and peace,
Things I couldn’t abide.
Now when I look deep inside all I see
Are these beautiful butterflies.
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A poem I actually found easier than some to understand more easily, more quickly. Thanks.
Beautiful!!!!!!!!
I'm very moved by this.
I love how he is able to capture the weird uncomfortableness of yearning without trivializing or demonizing our need for connection.
I hear some Rumi in this.
wow! I think this is so beautiful!! It's me inside. I wonder if it would be all right to use this poem in a newsletter I write monthly for a women's organization of which I am a member? They would really love it too.
Thanks so much one and all (Larry, you're in the acknowledgements), I am honored and flattered, thanks T, great big hug to Cully. I've been out of touch, my computer is in the shop getting a tune up. I'm sitting in a funky internet cafe drinking an Americano (all I can afford) and using one of the house computers. Liz, you can use this and anything else you like, perhaps you could send me a copy of your newsletter, sounds great? I am so impressed by writers such as you and T who can consistently and regularly put out material. Myself, I seem to often get blocked, its something I'm working on. I'm flattered that Cathy would hear some Rumi here. I must also say that God should get all the credit, it is he who gives the gift, and awakens my heart to the inspiration, and has given me the life experience that underlies it all.
Many thanks and peace to all,
Mark
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