15 November, 2011


This poem was written by my elder daughter when she was a high school student and then reworked a bit a few years later when her grandmother passed away. Today she is a physician and a Fellow in Pediatric Hematology/Oncology and has been home visting the past few days. I thought I'd share some of her work to honor her and honor that she will become a mother in the new year - my first grandchild.

Wings in the Wind

in the beginning,
                           we are all caterpillars
we are cushioned resilience
                           in our tiny bodies
but we are glory-seekers
                           wildly wishing for winds that can offer
a ride away
                           because away, we can rise
raise ourselves to peer at the light
                           as butterflies, beautiful, proud, and fragile
the wings that flutter and
                           lift us to our dreams
are sheerly simple
                           more delicate than an ancient rose
they are not unbreakable
                           they are not infallible
we can fall to the ground
                          or worse,
they tear and we find
                          that we are sweeping across the sky
grazing the scorcher-sun
                          brushing the sharp branches
at the mercy
                          of the wind
then at last we come to know
                          that butterflies may turn to
angels, all around us
                          holding our hands, shining
because there is beauty
                          inside us all
and still others finally find
                          their way home
higher than the sun
                          above us all
they touch the sky and cross its bounds
                          and there they watch us
through the tiny tears in heaven
                          we call stars

By Amy Elizabeth Brown