The artichoke and the butterfly

I see the artichoke with its bitter outer leaves,

I see the pain I don’t want to see,

I see how I don’t want things to be,

I see the entity that is me.

As I begin to peel back the leaves,

And peer underneath, layer upon layer,

Connections come clear as to why

Each leaf of me is as it is,

Each feeling, each action, each idea.

Pulling them back, I feel the fear,

The light of self-knowledge

Is shining so near.

I want to know why, I want to change,

But I’m afraid that I will find,

Beneath the last leaf,

A vacuum of needy pain inside,

The longing for love I never knew,

All consuming, drawing in my energy.

I’m terrified of finding out

That there can never be

Enough love to fill my need.

The Monthly Lunchtime Reading Groups at PIM