Among the forest lived a Butterfly of pretty colours,
Her stunning charm and kindness separated her from others,
But though the Butterfly was deeply loved by everyone,
Her soul was not at peace, sometimes she could not see the sun.
For all the other creatures thought that she did hurl the moon,
But when the Butterfly looked down she saw her old cocoon.
“Please don’t hold me higher than the others, for I’ve checked,
And knowing myself I understand I’m nowhere near perfect.
I’ve secrets that I’ve carried since I was a caterpillar,
None of you have witnessed them, for all you know I’m a killer!?
Don’t just look at me for there are others!” and she pointed,
“If I show you all my colours you will all be disappointed.”
     But smart a creature as this Butterfly could surely be,
She could not see the whole forest, every plant, each life, each tree.
If all the creatures of the wood could see inside her brain,
They all would have come forward, and all would have said the same:
“We know you are not perfect and we can’t see under your wings,
But even if hide you a dozen false colours, bad past, lies and tings,
It wouldn’t make a difference cos the colours that you show,
Are enough to make a full eclipse do nothing else but glow.
The time and smiles you make such efforts to gift to everyone,
Make certain that any negative traits would matter to no-one.
So please don’t lie awake at night and worry what’s under your wings,
Every part of you As A Whole,
Ensures the forest sings.”

Two lanes of whirring cars
I teetered on the edge of misery
My arms extending— I'd wished to be a butterfly.
The metallic shrill they left
In the dust of their coarse,
Unforgiving wheels
Sang like a sheet of notes
Strung into a nostalgic minor chord.
As if playing catch,
I swayed from side to side.
‘How low would I need to go
Before I’d get hit?’
I didn’t get far enough to know.

Who am I? I am indigenous
Purhēcha poetess butterfly.
Monarch butterflies arrive at
my homeland where bees make
wild sweet honey bestest.
Exotic Guamuchil fruits, chinese granadas; avocados grow too
amazing livestock makes best meat.
Michoacán’s tourist
success owes
its magic to butterflies and food.
my indigenous people thrive
in oxigen abundant land.
My people's joyous mind state
is contagious.
Every year between the months
of October and March, 20 million monarch butterflies migrate
to my forest land Michoacán
from all over North America,
traveling up to 3,000 kilometers
(1,864 miles) to spend the winter
in my State's mountains.

Monarchs arrive, covering so many acres changing color to my forest land  from jougle green to orange black,
phenomenon that attracts tourists from world wide lands..

Butterflies visit Hello Poetry
from many a lands too!
Reading writing poetry to
this poet's cyber home land
where I donate in waives
for in waives I breathe in-n-out

In waives poets read my stories
and in waives butterflies
come and go.
~~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
Copy Rights apply /2020.