The Iron Butterflies

Mother and child so close they were one. Free floating butterflies who danced in the sun. They were captured and tortured by a demon of pain. Escape was no option, attempts were in vain. Physical pain was not his deal. Emotional pain was all too real. Smothering slowly as if in a death tomb. They wait for escape as if from the womb. Their love for each other he used against them. A sin of such greatness that God will condemn. Splitting apart unconditional love. Will not go unnoticed by the judge from above. Betrayed by each other as one ran for freedom. The other stayed and prayed death would come. One was strong, the other was weak. One was brave the other was meek. One lay shattered within her death tomb. The other escaped as if from the womb. The strong one was wounded but still tried to fly. The other felt helpless and wanted to die. The young butterfly remembered their tie. She reminded the other one how to fly. Each on their right shoulders a reminder is there. Of the pain that they suffered and how much they care. As fragile as they used to be. Now iron butterflies at last they are free.