Welcoming Whimsy: Wishes and Butterflies

When I was younger, I was told that blue butterflies could grant wishes. The first wish I made, as I gazed upon its beating wings, was to have a pair of my own. Ones that could carry me above this world, into the starlight. As I grew older, my wishes became less fantastical. While climbing trees, I’d wish for my arms to be just a bit longer, enough to reach the next highest branch. I’d always wish for more, until everything became too much. I started wishing for less – less work, less stress, even less of my own stomach.

Wishes were no longer wistful dreams, but pleas from a young girl who didn’t want to grow up. I felt those growing pains intensely, both in my head and in my heart. I reached high, not for the next branch, but for the next rung on the infinite ladder. I filled my time with schoolwork and friends, hoping the noise would drown out my thoughts. Yet, in the silence, those thoughts raged within me, beating against the inside of my skull until I fell asleep with puffy eyes. In those days, during listless slumber, my wish for silence was granted.

It’s true that those awkward years are ephemeral, and I found myself embracing womanhood on a stronger foundation. I no longer defined myself by what I lacked but by what I stood for. Secure in myself, yet lost in the world, I wished for an anchor. An anchor I believed would come in the form of a warm body and welcoming arms. Someone to kiss my forehead and wipe away my tears, like my mother did many years ago.

Only now, crying took the form of silent streams, a quick release and reset done in the privacy of my locked room. I never found the anchor I was looking for, and pretty soon, I gave up trying. My focus shifted back to my schoolwork and the road that promised me success. I wished for approval, opportunity, and the strength to navigate the many hoops. Until I got those things, and my driving flame flickered out when met with the cold wind of empty success.

The security I had in myself fell apart, and I found my soul keeping a safe distance, trailing behind me in my day-to-day life. I wished for clarity and found it not as an epiphany but as the soft comfort built by tiny moments of peace. Peace found in sprouting herbs or a freshly baked pie. Peace found in laughter shared with friends or a hug from a child. Peace in comfortable silence and a sense of purpose.

Not all my wishes have been answered, and yet I keep wishing. The other day, I saw a blue butterfly. I only caught a glimpse before it fluttered to the next flower, but that moment was enough to close my eyes and make another wish, one perhaps even more fantastical than any other.

Welcoming Whimsy: Salvation


Lately, I’ve felt a heavy weight,

Colors I cherished have lost their vibrance,

In the backdrop of mundane existence.

My spirit drained of vitality,

The zest for life I once championed

Now withers within

This ordinary existence.

My soul a weary traveler,

Yearns for a tranquil respite.

Bottled up, perhaps,

I’ll find salvation.

In that vessel, I hope to find

The cure to my melancholy.

A secret place away from the world,

Where I can set my magic free.

Welcoming Whimsy: Midnight Woods

My attempt at children’s poetry since I work a lot with children, and wanted to see if I could cater my writing to that audience.

Midnight Woods 

Come my child,

Have you heard the tale of the midnight woods?

Well listen tight you should.

Tis a place no humans are found alive.

Where the magic brims and creatures thrive.

Nightshade, belladonna and hemlock you’ll find here

Of all the plants you should stay clear.

They grow on branches.

They grow on vines. 

They grow out of big black pots at times.

Stirred by the critters in their pointy hats,

Who use the magic of their habitat.

To brew potions.

To cast spells.

To make a home of the place they dwell.

In the woods it is never day,

The monsters that live here prefer it that way.

They stomp and shuffle in the dark.

Breaking branches, leaving marks.

The ground is laced with an icky goop.

It’s thick and blue.

Be careful!

Or it might swallow you.

The woods are covered.

Their world unseen. 

Obscured by a smoke of purple and green.

So my child,

Lend me an ear. 

So you can avoid these woods

Filled with fear. 

Close your eyes.

Repeat after me.

“I am strong.

I am brave.

I have things I fear

and that’s okay.”

Now open your eyes.

Let out a sigh.

The world is scary,

I cannot deny.

One day you might find yourself 

In a frightening place. 

It could be this forest, it could be a cave.

Wherever you find yourself,

There is something to know.

Words to keep with you 

wherever you go. 

You are strong.

You are brave.

You have things you fear 

and that’s okay.

No matter your fears 

big or small.

You are brave enough 

to face them all.

Welcoming Whimsy: Autumn’s Exhale

Autumn’s Exhale 

A watercolor painting I did inspired by the season

I took my first breath in the middle of autumn.

In the years that followed I held it there. 

Stuck somewhere in my throat. 

This time of year breeds a certain panic.

I can feel its motion as I watch people

rush from class to class.

Moving in straight lines 

eyes straightforward

or straight down.

A motion I clumsily follow

as I tilt my neck up to the sky,

Watching as the maroons and mustard yellows

descend neatly to the floor to join 

their brothers and sisters.

I like feeling them under my boots.

Their crunch a sign of the larger 

crisp cold that hangs in the air.

A cold that I can feel at the base of my lungs, 

replacing the bright summer sun 

I once carried in my chest.

A cold wind I often confuse for either fear or excitement

Only discernible by the speed of entry.

This is the season where I rest between this dichotomy

Of glee and fright 

Of life and death. 

Anxiety brings with it possibility 

A future unknown and unseen.

I hold my breath waiting for it.

Hoping one day to be born again 

and to let the air release.