If prayers were butterflies I'd build you a menagerie with my own two hands
With mitered corners, solid soldering, leaded glass, its framing painted as white as the snow
As each prayer is uttered, this garden of nectar would fill with monarchs and swallowtails and painted ladies and Karner blues
Who would flit from one dewy blossom to another, drinking in the nourishment that sustains them
Each one shimmering with the grace and beauty contained within the heartfelt entreaty that was its creation.
On cloudy days (such as this one), you could enter the conservatory, sit upon the sturdy bench I crafted especially for you
Lean against its embroidered cushions, sip the glass of red I placed nearby, while noticing the handkerchief with a fine crocheted edge
With your name stitched in cursive in the corner.
It is there for all the tears you have not yet shed
While the butterflies approach, one by one, each leaving its kiss on your cheek
A soft, hopeful whisper,
An appeal for wholeness,
The nourishment you need to sustain you--
A prayer bestowed by a butterfly.