Hushed Butterfly

"There’s no way to know what makes one thing happen and not another. What leads to what. What destroys what. What causes what to flourish or die or take another course. I’ll never know, and neither will you of the life you don’t choose. We’ll only know that whatever that sister life was, it was important and beautiful and not ours. It was the ghost ship that didn’t carry us. There’s nothing to do but salute it from the shore." ~Cheryl Strayed

Lost dreams...I think we all have a few of those. As I get older, I often think of them. But I love the perspective the above quote gives. I have truly come to believe that everything happens for a reason, and in its proper time. I wrote the poem below years back, while still struggling to gain this perspective that I firmly believe now. I felt a sense of loss then when thinking about things I wish I'd done. But now, at 50, I feel as if I'm exactly where I need to be. Those things that didn't work out for me simply weren't ready to unfold in my life yet. They were important and beautiful, but not mine at the time. Isn't that a lovely way of seeing it? It sure resonates with me. I salute those lost dreams of the past, and embrace the dreams I have today...lovely dreams that make me want to get up in the morning and take on the day. Sometimes on the way to your dream you get lost and find a better one.

For Photo Art Friday this week, Bonnie has asked us to create an image centered around aging. For my butterfly photo, I used two of Bonnie's textures, Wicked (Saturation/100%) and Heavenly (Difference/76%). I also used the Poster Edges effect in PSE, and put it through Radlab several times to tweak it. Thank you for visiting and please visit Bonnie's site to see more photo art (button below)!

FLY

My wringing hands are catching my eye
And become ribbons of thought
Entangled inside
I abandoned my dreams
Neglected their whims, and now they
Nest high where the night birds cry

A moment of peace lands with a sigh
And tickles my wrist with its lull
Purply musings ripple my skin
And I scratch them away to feel
Flesh-toned again

Upwards I soar and I kick at the clouds
Only to fall softly down with the rain
Colorful yearnings flow from my brow
To become singed to the wings
Of a hushed butterfly...

I watch it grow smaller
As it flutters and flies,
With my rainbow dreams
Towards the sky.

© Sherri Brannon