Butterfly Wings
Disclaimer: roses are red, violets are blue, I don't own Harry so you do not sue.
Chapter Twelve
Walking down the familiar streets of Surrey, Lily hummed a simple melody, occasionally adding some lyrics. As she walked she remembered. The bench she sat on when she received her Hogwarts letter, her favorite place to write her songs in the cave in wild honeysuckle hedge that surrounded the park, the place she watched Petunia run away… it all brought back memories, both good and bad but memories all the same. She'd been running from them for so long, running from her past, her family, herself and what she became. Trying to escape from the very essence that made her Lily Evans.
Lily sat on the rusted spray painted swings, smiling faintly. It was time she returned, time she visited the graves she had been haunted by all her life. Rubbing the scars of her childhood on her arms, partly out of habit and partly out of being here again, breathing in the coal tarnished air, walking the grungy paths of her forgotten youth again. Pushing herself gently with her foot she sighed a bittersweet sigh. It was time she let this go, let it die once and for all. Free herself from the emotional baggage she had once sacrificed her life for.
Gentle creaking of the swing filled the almost quiet night, apart from the sirens echoing in the deserted town, everything was still. Or as tranquil as it got in the early hours of a weekday morning. Tilting her body back Lily watched the ground fly by, making way for the night sky, and the ground recovering enough to cover the sky from view again. With the stars wheeling overhead and the ground speeding by beneath her Lily laughed beside herself. Sitting upright again and stopping suddenly Lily listened to the echo of laughter. Her breathing quickening and eyes watching around her warily, till a smile slipped into those bright green pools once more. Despite herself she giggled. It had been so long since she was happy enough to laugh, a real laugh, one filled with sunshine, warm weather, white sand beaches and sun ripened cherries.
On a whim Lily rose from the swing and walked the well worn path to the honeysuckle hedge. Bending down into the shadows, Lily crawled into the seemingly invisible cave in the invincible hedge. Though slightly overgrown but not enough to stop her five foot five frame Lily crawled down a narrow tunnel, burying deep into the hedge. The light from the street lamp couldn't penetrate this indestructible hedge. The old vines caught her thick red hair and grabbed hold of her clothing but regardless of the minor scratches to her arms and face she pressed on.
The narrow tunnel gave way to a large cavern edged in honeysuckle bows. In the middle, aglow in moonlight lay an old leather bound book. The scent of the age old paper filled her nose with memories of nights in shining armor, mighty battles, powerful kings and queens and sweet sweet love untainted and true. Lily's fingers traced the embroidering on the cover.
"Lillian Emily Evans"Lily smiled remembering her grandmother, the giver of the book. The smell of her hair, the leathery touch of her skin, her laugh ringing loud and clear. It seamed like only yesterday she died, when in reality it had been over a decade. Lily ran her fingers over her cheeks, remembering her grandmothers very touch, smell, sound. She let a smile stray across her face as she remembered the spunky old lady, unbroken and strong, even after her only child became pregnant at fifteen and a drug and alcohol user with an abusive husband and run away habits. Throughout all this she remained strong. Like I should be, like I will be, like I am though Lily fiercely. With a gentle hand Lily opened the book, the scent of vanilla and soil mingling in her nose. Her eyes took in the neat old cursive winding its way down the page.
"the moonlight rolls down like a river,
The silence streams out like a sea;
And far where the eastern winds quiver,
My farewell goes floating to thee.
Like night, when the sunset is fading
And starbeams troop up in the skies,
Through a cold, dark and lonely forever
Gleams the light of the poet eyes.
And sometimes when I am weary,
When the path is thorny and Wild,
I'll look back to the Eyes in the twilight,
Back to the eyes that smiled.
And pray that a wreath like a rainbow
May slip from the beautiful past,
And Crown me again with the sweet, strong love
And keep me, and hold me fast.
For the way is not strown with petal soft,
It is covered with hearts that weep,
And the wounds I tread touch a deeper source
Than you think it mine to keep.
Down the years I shall move without you,
Yet ever must feel the blow
That caused me a deeper pain to give
Than you will ever know.
For the tears that dropped on my hands that night
'Neath the mystical shining moon,
Were a sacred dew, consecrated there,
On the rose-altered heart of June.
And the heart that beat against mine like a bird
That is fluttering, wounded sore,
With it's nest all broken, deserted, torn,
Will beat there forevermore.
But the world moves on, and the piteous Earth
Still groans in the monster pain;
And the star that leads me points onward yet,
Though the red drops fall like rain.
I do not shrink, though a wave of pain
Sobs over me now and then,
As I think of those "saddest of all sad words,"
The pitiful "might have been."
"It might have been"--it is not to be;
And the tones of your "swan's farewell"
Ring sadly, solemnly deep to me
Like the voice of a sobbing bell.
Ay, gather your petals and take them back
To the dead heart under the dew;
And crown it again with the red love bloom,
For the dead are always true.
But go not "back to the sediment"
In the slime of the moaning sea,
For a better world belongs to you,
And a better friend to me."
Silent tears fell from Lily's eyes as she read the words she wrote there years ago. She could still feel the sting of his fist, the stench of his breath, the taste of blood in her mouth. All the poison that had filled her throughout her youth spilled out, falling on the now smudged words of her pain, hate, love, confusion, life.
Sitting in the grove in the honeysuckle drenched in moonlight she realized what she had to do to free herself from the binds that held her, imprisoned her all her life. Her face calm with grim purpose she left that hidden grove and followed the dirt path out of the park, the swing still creaking softly in the silhouetted moonlight.
Alrighty then, its kinda short but it'll have to tide you over till I finish my science project. I really hate middle school teachers. Anyways tell me what you think about the latest developments in lily regaining control of her life and stuff. I haven't gotten a flamer so if you're a flamer kinda person and you don't like my stuff do tell me… its like ego management and is defiantly for the best.
Oh by the way I didn't write the poem. My stuff never rhymes like that… way to much thought involved for me… anyways its by Voltairine deCleyre's its called And Thou Too and was written in St. Johns, Michigan, 1888. Since I found a site of his stuff I'll probably include more 'cause his metaphors and the overall flow is pretty good in my opinion. If you don't think so do tell me or give me another suggestion for poetry.
-Prongsies