Transformation Retreat in Farrera, Spain

 

Details about the retreat will be posted here soon.  But for now…

A Chrysalis

My little Mädchen found one day
A curious something in her play,
That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed;
It was not anything that grew,
Or crept, or climbed, or swam, or flew;
Had neither legs nor wings, indeed;
And yet she was not sure, she said,
Whether it was alive or dead.

She brought it in her tiny hand
To see if I would understand,
And wondered when I made reply,
“You’ve found a baby butterfly.”
“A butterfly is not like this,”
With doubtful look she answered me.
So then I told her what would be
Some day within the chrysalis;
How, slowly, in the dull brown thing
Now still as death, a spotted wing,
And then another, would unfold,
Till from the empty shell would fly
A pretty creature, by and by,
All radiant in blue and gold.

“And will it, truly?” questioned she—
Her laughing lips and eager eyes
All in a sparkle of surprise
“And shall your little Mädchen see?”
“She shall!” I said. How could I tell
That ere the worm within its shell
Its gauzy, splendid wings had spread,
My little Mädchen would be dead?

To-day the butterfly has flown,—
She was not here to see it fly,—
And sorrowing I wonder why
The empty shell is mine alone.
Perhaps the secret lies in this:
I too had found a chrysalis,
And Death that robbed me of delight
Was but the radiant creature’s flight!

By Mary Emily Bradley. Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

Here I am! Eccomi qui!

Florence, Italy

Copyright

COPYRIGHT © 2019 BY CRYSTAL LYNN BELL ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Excerpts may be used, with FULL CREDIT given to my website and me as writer. Unauthorized use of Full Article copy or duplication of any material on this website without express and written permission from its author and owner is strictly prohibited. Thank you.

%d bloggers like this: