A Butterfly

A butterfly was trapped
on the inside of my window.
It flittered about
not finding anyway out.
It couldn’t comprehend glass.
I wanted to help it find freedom,
but I knew I would only
hasten its death
by crushing its delicate wings.
For us there may be no help
or perhaps there is something delicate
that would be crushed.
No window imprisons us,
but what restricts
perhaps is what we believe
what we cannot comprehend
that would set us free.

by kendall thomas

Comments (2)

Great poem, nice and true..
I think that this is very true Kendall. Always a treasure to see a new poem in your collection. Well wishes to you, Marie.