Poem: 'Ephemerality'

 by Anna Medina

The butterflies are lifeless, no longer rousing in my stomach.

Scenic imitations of inexpressible thoughts,

Beautifully transient, their exertion short lived,

For they are fragile, and show no reluctance towards their demise.

Though this is familiarity; this is anticipated.

My words lay limp in my throat.

 

I am powerless against this feeling of inadequacy

For these imitations are limiting me.

It is now that I find these butterflies take more than they return,

These words are better left unspoken.

Silence is now desirable,

I begin to rejoice and revitalise in the restraint of thought.

 

Ephemerality here expressed as the prettiest form of limitation,

Both an ugly blessing and a beautiful curse.

The ruminations I wish to say.