A Butterfly Home

I am almost healed of you
But some moments of deep grief overtake my whole being - Making tears burst at my eye lid seams
My body - It shakes
Certain notes of a country song make tiny abrasions near the raised scarred skin on my soul - Goose bumps
As if hearing you sing again would guilt trip me back in time
When you told me the “the butterflies” of your melodic voice had decided to fly on
Leaving me, a child, to sorrow this alone
Never really making sense as to why the songs we sang left your lips
Dancing now with the spirit of your rhythms in the tempo of death - Be gone!
Hearing your whispers through the photograph on the dresser in my room
Looking at it, your arms around Brother and I - Protected
If you look close in that photo, those butterflies are still around
Although I will never gaze into your moss-warm eyes ever again
From the person who passed on his melody master pieces into my head
Sadness and sweetness; a mixed smoke
I still sing even though your voice left mine long ago
I can say I am almost healed
But the truth is, I only adapt to the pain with time
Everyday, a trial to prove that just because the clock keeps beating its drum
Does not mean I have disappear with you as the countdown goes on
The butterflies have found a home within me
There, I will nurture them
I will let them fly free
For you, I will breathe a song
A song for us both to sing
From ash to air
To you, from me