Migration
By Keerthana K
I told the butterflies on the way back home about myself.
The beautiful winged creatures fluttering about
Happen to be the only source of colour, along with the sky,
On the path that I take to reach home.
I told them about the scar I had on my back,
From when I fell trying to ride my bike as a child—
The way it bothered me though I couldn’t see it,
Even if I twisted before the mirror.
They stopped briefly, and one placed itself on the crease of my hair.
Then it flew away,
Following the ones that migrated before.
The path ahead once consisted of flowers, trees,
And fireflies that visited at dusk.
The sky always had rainbows,
Little bunnies running around in their paradise.
The sky is now bright blue, which will soon turn grey.
No life will ever dare to cross this path.
Now I must await the last butterflies to make their exit
Every single day I pass.
By Keerthana K
Metaphors used are profound!
this is soo beautiful I felt like tinker bell on a Friday morning in a bar
"every single day I pass" <3
A quiet, evocative poem that uses butterflies as gentle witnesses to solitude and memory. The imagery of the unseen scar is particularly strong, symbolising hidden pain that lingers even when it cannot be confronted directly. The brief pause of the butterfly on the speaker’s hair beautifully captures fleeting comfort and connection. The contrast between the once-living path and its present emptiness effectively conveys loss and emotional desolation. Overall, the poem’s simplicity, subtle symbolism, and restrained tone make it deeply moving and memorable.