In early November, the air thickens with color, a dance of orange wings, a swirling tapestry against the sky— the monarchs arrive, their migration a whisper of ancient lore, a song of remembrance for those who once walked this earth. They flutter in glimmering clouds, carrying with them the weight of belief, the thought that each delicate body, each fragile flight, is a soul returning, a fleeting visit from the other side, where the veil thins and dreams converge. We lean toward logic, insisting on the mapped paths, the compass of instinct, the pull of the sun, but can’t we embrace the wonder? The billions of wings dancing in unison, following a rhythm etched in the marrow of time, a cosmic ballet, a connection between worlds. What if reality is woven with magic, the tangible brushed with the ethereal? What if the science— the charts and graphs— is just another way to trace the sacred, to honor the journey? In the fluttering of those wings, there lies a spirituality, a profound understanding; that life and death are but notes in a symphony, that every migration tells a story, each arrival a promise; that we are never truly alone, that the past is woven into the very fabric of our skies.
Author’s Note
Mexico becomes a temporary home for countless monarch butterflies, which brighten the sky annually with their orange wings.
Their migration coincides with the Dia de Los Muertos festival on November 1 and 2.
This led to an ancient belief that these butterflies represent the spirits of deceased ancestors revisiting the living.
My new book of poetry and prose, The Edges, is now available in digital and paperback formats at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, Google Play, and Kobo.
Upcoming…
A prose poem about change:
Decay and Renewal, 9 November 2024
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When I was a kid growing up in Florida, Monarchs were very common. I could walk into my back yard and see a dozen or more. Nowadays, here in Upstate SC, I rarely see any, although once we started planting natives around our yard, they are showing up more frequently.
Love the poem. In Canada we have Monarch butterfly relatives, even far north.
Rand