She Danced -

It was only a part of the wing. 

But I slowed and gently picked it up. 

Even broken from her it was still beautiful. 

Black and blue and orange. 

I eased the case off my phone and used that to keep it safe. 

It was me 

I kept it for weeks.

I would ease that case off and lay it in my palm. 

Studying the patterns.

Remembering.

In my mind I see her dance. 

From leaf to bloom to blade. 

I wonder. 

If she knew she was beautiful. 

If being beautiful mattered to her. 

I wonder. 

If she knew she was appreciated. 

If being appreciated mattered to her. 

I wonder if she knew I called it dancing. 

Or if she was so focused on the task at hand 

that she never realized any of it. 

She is me.

Yet still she danced. 

I can see her in my mind.

Her entire adult life was a dance. 

From the day she emerged from her cocoon. 

Right up until she met the ground where I found that little part of her. 

Even broken she is still beautiful. 

I wonder if she knew. 

I wonder if they will say these kinds of things about me. 

You know - "even broken she was still beautiful" 

I gently placed that tiny bit of wing. 

In a place of peace for me. 

Maybe she will know.

Maybe this will matter. 

She is me. 

She is beautiful.