Beautiful, blissful, butterflies
Carry those I’ve lost.
They hold onto the memories.
They remind me of better times.
But they bring up the things unseen.
Their beauty traps the observer,
Until they can no longer see anything
Except the butterfly
It becomes all they long for
All they remember
Until they choose to look away.
Away it flies.
Away it goes.
Leaving something behind,
Something powerful,
Something necessary,
Something called healing.
—Kayla Bently is a junior at Grace Holistic Center for Education in Yorkville