By the Brazos River a butterfly crossed my path;
twice it waved its wings when I cried already missing you,
wished we had taken you one last time before
to wade in the water; you couldn’t walk, but you wanted to.
We carried you everywhere the last four days
you were with us, we pet you because we didn’t know
when would be the last time.
I wanted to believe in reincarnation; I couldn’t let you go.
It’s so quiet at home where you used to be.
There is despair and hope and regret and love inside my body.
I plead into silence and the butterflies appear;
I want to believe it’s you, reborn coming to show me,
but I hate this loss, this empty house, the grief.
I want something as real as you, not blind belief.