Her swarm of butterflies (Poem)

 by Xin Yu (Beatriz) Zhuang

Look! A swarm of butterflies.

 

Though unwelcomed,

Perches fearlessly on her chest.

Perhaps they need somewhere to rest,

A good shield she has offered,

One by one the new resident comes,

Neither the pesticide nor the snow scares them away.

How precious they are,

Too precious to be seen.

Covering them up with clothes,

Keeping them to herself.

 

Her dermatologist didn’t dare to tell her,

That the butterflies will live with her for the rest of her life.

But as they say,

Three times of suffering from the same illness,

A good doctor the patient oneself becomes.

Dear dermatologist, she knew it very well.

 

But still she calls the scars butterflies,

Because—

Helpless illness of skin.

Helpless optimism of her.

 

The picture is retreated from Pinterest at here 

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The poem was written in a very short time during an emotional struggle. At first I only meant to write a diary but somehow the poem came out naturally. There were few revisions been done since I think it's better just to stay original to what I meant to express at the moment of emotional turmoil.