W.S. Merwin
July with sun-filled leaves drifting among the butterflies
I have been coming to this morning light since the day I was born
I saw its childhood as I sat alone in silence in the high window
no one else saw it no one else would even recognize it
it is the same child now who watches the clouds change
they appear from out of sight and change as the moment passes through them
The sun-filled leaves, butterflies, morning light, passage of time - it's all hitting home these days, and I've been trying to bring myself back to Merwin and Merwin to write about it. I can't promise much. I feel rusty. It's also so very odd to type the word Merwin now.
After Simon's mom passed away, we were gathered in Rhode Island trying to make sense of things and coping as best as possible by being together. We kept seeing yellow butterflies - around the house, on walks in Colt State Park, everywhere around us. Since then, I've associated the yellow butterfly with Janey and her memory. But I haven't seen them with nearly as much frequency as during those early days of her loss.
Until this summer. Nearly every time I am outdoors at the lake, whether on the deck, in the driveway, or laying out on the raft, the yellow butterfly flutters by. The other day Simon was working down in Portsmouth, our visitors had departed, and I was reading in my favorite spot on the deck. I felt movement in front of my face, glancing up just as the butterfly darted out of view. It's uncanny the way it always appears, particularly when I'm alone or finding a moment of solitude amidst a full house.
There is varied symbolism associated with seeing yellow butterflies. In some Native American cultures, the yellow butterfly brings guidance and a sign of hope. Some cultures believe that it symbolizes re-birth while Irish lore goes so far as to describe them as indicators that departed souls are resting peacefully. They represent joy, creativity, happiness, prosperity.
Of all the things I imagined when facing loss, I never thought this would be so important, comforting, poignant. I never thought I'd believe in something like this, but I feel Merwin and Janey so strongly through the butterfly's presence. I imagine them having grand adventures together. Swimming alongside each other, romping through the woods, happily side by side in quiet moments, savoring the companionship.
I don't care if it sounds ridiculous. It's such a happy moment in my day, this little visit. Those wings, that little fluttering blur, is a hello from somewhere else, from those two other beings who I miss so much.
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