GRIEF Poem: Blessing the Dead Monarch, by Hope Cotter

She leaves for the south
never to see home again.
The winds are at her back.
Red rock valleys roll and release
into the unfurled fields and flowers
The Great Plains stretch out to define
the sawtooth Appalachian mountains.
Her message has a mighty meaning.
She signals health and happiness.
Hers is a journey says to all,
Fertile is the future.
She rests on the corn plant.
A chemical rain descends.
Blisters begin on the wings.
The burning knocks her down.
Her flight falls furiously.
Her antenna curl over her eyes.
Tumbling and crashing,
her migration, invisible.

He headed to the north.
leaving a sailor’s life.
His family’s fishing ship;
an empty catch.
Searching for a home,
a white ghost forest watches him walk.
Concerned from the grave
their roots, ocean salted.
On day thirty, his breath shortens.
He lies on the ground;
Sees the burnt butterfly, eye to eye.
He buries the dead monarch.
Dirt over the wings
Blesses her and thinks,
We are all foreign somewhere.

Author: poetryfest

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