POEMS/ Catching Zhuangzi
Zhuangzi, Chinese Philosopher, 369 B.C.E -286 B.C. E.
Catching Zhuangzi
Two dozen swallowtail butterflies
once feasted on the cone flowers
outside my kitchen door
saffron wings among
the purple blossoms. I have never
dreamt of butterflies, though
I have read that to dream of them
tells us we are imagining
our own transformation
at the end of a cycle
of growth and change, wings
opening, flying free. I would like
to fly, but I do not have the vision
of Zhuangzi, who asleep
dreamt he was a butterfly,
and when he woke, he did not know
if he was himself again
or a butterfly
dreaming he was a man.
Today I dreamt I caught
Zhuangzi in my net
and let him go.
From Migrations (Antrim House, 2013)
Two dozen swallowtail butterflies
once feasted on the cone flowers
outside my kitchen door
saffron wings among
the purple blossoms. I have never
dreamt of butterflies, though
I have read that to dream of them
tells us we are imagining
our own transformation
at the end of a cycle
of growth and change, wings
opening, flying free. I would like
to fly, but I do not have the vision
of Zhuangzi, who asleep
dreamt he was a butterfly,
and when he woke, he did not know
if he was himself again
or a butterfly
dreaming he was a man.
Today I dreamt I caught
Zhuangzi in my net
and let him go.
From Migrations (Antrim House, 2013)