Stained glass

There are those who have waited
Ugly long years to become a butterfly 
Too afraid to lift a wing at first - 
But learning their arms now
Flare with flags like a herald's trumpet,
Cannot help but flash every colour
In defiance against plain glass
Staining it with the blue-green joy
Of becoming, 
The red of being, 
Sealing the waiting cracks with amber
A benevolent balm,
A hint.

And there are those who don't like it.
They do not understand lightness
In a heavy world, surrounded by stones.
You say, 'neither did I, I carved waves and eyes marking time before my flight'.
But you are fanciful, they say.

And so you fold your wings,
Become a furious line
Of amber gold
Remembering
Every single time you weren't yourself
And this time you fly
With resistance 
And all the more
Reason. 

LJ Ireton