Poet Laureate Joseph Bathanti pens poem to celebrate Veterans DayPublished 10:00am Friday, November 9, 2012
Saint Francis’s Satyr Butterfly
All creatures have the same source as we have. — Saint Francis of Assisi
A reclusive small brown butterfly,
white and yellow stigmatic suns
deployed along its wing ridges,
Saint Francis’s Satyr – christened
after the 12th century Italian soldier
and POW turned mystic –
secretes itself, miraculously,
in 10 by 10 kilometers
of the 251 square mile brash
of Fort Bragg – exact coordinates classified –
beyond which – we know this much –
it has gone undetected. Shy, endangered,
preferring anonymity, it hides
in high artillery impact domains –
life often chooses death –
the fires triggered by bombardment.
It wears Marsh camouflage,
resembles in its favored habitat –
blasted sedge and beaver ruins –
a tiny standard issue
Advanced Combat Helmet.
Parsed from the chrysalis,
rent too soon from its dream of living,
the satyr blazes in desperate glory
but three or four days,
in its imaginal stage,
then tenders its life in writ sacrifice.
Its gorgeous numbers dwindle.
The caterpillar has never been seen.
We accept, on faith, metamorphosis.
- Joseph Bathanti