Broken Butterflies

You wear your anger well and stand For all the world to see A heavy cloak and one gloved hand And no humility You stand inside the garden And feast on black cherries And swallow the manna from heaven And spit out the seeds You spread your anger on sharp-edged knives Cut my skin and make it bleed Like Pilate in his self-righteousness You're a traitor and a thief Choking on your unplanned words Coughing up your lies Tumbling from your mouth a flurry Of broken butterflies But the blood that flows I cannot hide That blood that covers me Nourishes the butterflies And they are healed and are set free I wish you had what Ruth possessed But then I don't expect that of you Grace and honor and faithfulness And the love that you refuse Will you ever learn to just forgive Will you open your beautiful eyes And bleed the way Christ did And fix the broken butterflies