Wings of fire

Rage and sorrow gripped me then without ever thinking that in a moment I might inflict not just one but two black eyes on a boy that lived just down the street

Who I had, just the day before run and played with, laughed and joked while sitting on my grandmother’s front porch
In our hands tall cool glasses of different colored beverages, ice cubes bobbing

If time had frozen in that moment I might have had a chance to gauge the sudden surprise at my aggression
The cry of pain when my fist connected
Before he ran away

Looking down around my feet I took in the carnage of his deeds
The burnt up matches, those little boxes
And all those now dead butterflies

I recalled from half a block away
The flutter of light that had drawn me, with a twisted sense of irony
Only to watch with mounting horror

A tiny body
A flash of light
A smoldering of orange and white

I looked on for what seemed forever
Trapped by a cold mix of disgust and mourning
As he released that butterfly

Wings aflame it took to the sky
It was a cloudless summer night
A dancing candle, a tiny life