In The Beginning (for Monarch butterflies)
In the beginning,
there was a maker -
every story has one.
A fleeting matriarch
who abandons life to chance,
here, to the underside of leaves
of milkweed; the doulas of kings,
before the winter in their blood
severs the bond.
From instar to instar,
do they recall
who they used to be?
The monarchs flee
for warmer harbour, a plea
to cottonwood and willow,
to dream of rain, tender and golden,
at fifty degrees when these little divinities
may swarm their own autumn -
a surge of the energy of one.
And I think I was someone once,
I do not remember - memories
do not always bring home the lost,
and the embers that rise from flames
as a thousand new stars
will not offer warmth, instead
we weep oceans, and made
of salt, we ask again, finally,
for our mothers.
Video of Monarchs: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Hq3X60H7aBo