{The Moth}

Two girls show me a moth they’ve been trying
to save: a big, brown and tan thing,
fuzzy, fluttering and stumbling
on the concrete patio, its big, clever wings
bent at the wrong angle.
I manage to scoop the trembling creature into my hands.
I ask where it should be taken,
they say, “Over here,” galloping far ahead.
As I walk, I feel the frantic beat
of the moth’s wings soft against my
cupped palms. I try to understand
that I am holding life – blood, muscle,
warm body.

I try to understand what the world
must feel like, cradled in the hands
of the Higher Power, beating its injured
wings in the futile attempt to
save itself.


One thought on “{The Moth}

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