The Yellow Butterfly

I dragged your body

for miles

across rock and sand

to the river of Life,

trying desperately

to make you drink.

I felt your heartbeat

in my ears,

tried to hold the thumps

in my hands,

but blood is slippery,

my fingers frail.

I lie in rest,

beneath the Mulberry Tree,

capturing shade,

soaking you up

to wring my body dry

of your voice

I turn my face

to the Yellow Butterfly,

whose fluttering wings

bring the air

only I

can breathe.

You once told me

I could not

save everyone.

Better,

to watch them drown,

than lease my life

for theirs.