Published on January 12, 2019 on the Ancient Paths Facebook page.
A butterfly floated face down in the warm pool. So I lifted it up, out of the water to see if it was still alive— by looking into its black eyes for a solemn, kind moment. It fluttered a bit— letting me know it was still alive, and a warmth came over me.
Then I held it for a long while in my wet palm, up against the sun streaming in, like I was giving it Communion before last rites.
My hand was like a faith healer, I thought, but this can go on forever. So I let it sit on the side of the pool with the others, nesting their souls, and preparing for their next heavenly flight.