If only by Therese

If only the butterfly stopped upon my hand 
To share its secrets with me. 
I would revel in nature's dreams. 
Soft and gentle yet also bold. 
Colors that flash, brilliant in the pale spring air. 
I am lost in a moment of time, gone in the motion of a butterfly's wing. 
All that is brash, brutal and coarse as broken glass 
Fades to misty patterns of green and grey. 
While patches of sunlight break through to lighten the mood. 
 If only the small butterfly landed upon my lips, 
I would feel the soft caress of the winds gentle kiss. 
                                                          -Image and Words byTherese

MY BODY by Elizabeth Hipwell

My body, 
     ripe for the taking, 
          filled with shames voice. 
Plunged into the fiery depths of self mutilation. 
My sense of self lashes out, 
     and when threatened, 
          curls inwards to my very core. 
The stress creeps upwards, 
     as if failing to reach the freedom of a hill top 
          filled with weeping willows, 
               that sway with the loaded failures of my past. 
Disintegration comes when I buckle under the stress 
          of reliving these failures. 
My shoulders pull back and settle into my body 
          opening up vessels of hope. 
I take one step at a time 
          as if walking the line of steadiness.
      -Image & Words by Elizabeth Hipwell