Butterfly
Butterfly, an unwanted nickname…
“Can I call you butterfly?”
He looked at me for a mere second and laughed out loud.
“Who in the world gives such a nickname to a man?” he said.
Maybe it’s true no one ever wants to call them an insect name. But he never knew that that animal was the one that would describe him more perfectly than anything in the world.
Everyone notices its beauty.
Just like...
Everyone notices his smile.
Everyone notices its wings.
Just like...
Everyone notices his talents.
Everyone notices its unique patterns.
Just like...
Everyone notices his unique personality.
But
No one notices its struggles.
Just like...
No one notices his unstable life.
No one notices it when it’s a caterpillar.
Just like...
No one notices his past.
No one notices its ugly, fat shape as a caterpillar.
Just like...
No one noticed his presence when he was a kid.
And out of all these things
A caterpillar builds a cocoon for itself to become a beautiful butterfly.
I want to be a cocoon for him.
I want to secure him tightly in my arms when he is hurt.
I want to hold him in my embrace when others hate him for who he is
I want to let him know that I can be his hideaway when he is delicate and sensitive.
I want to let him know that I love him, not because he is like a butterfly, but because he stayed strong like a caterpillar.
I want to let him know that I want him not because he is unique, but because he is hard-working and fragile.
I want to let him know I admire him, not because he is beautiful, but because he was able to spread his wings amid all the chaos in his life.
But
He never wants to ask why I want to call him a butterfly.
And I never want to tell him this untold truth.
Credits
This poem was written by Sahithi Mandapati, proofread by Sreekar Ayyagari and photographed by Krishna Guttikonda.
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