Casualties on the Morning Shore

I pray in reading this poem people will believe in Jesus Christ, the Savior, and no longer fear death or dying.

Tide coming in as the sun came up.
What surprise had I to find a Monarch butterfly
On the shores of Emerald Isle,

The first one encountered, with wet, sandy wings,
Its proboscis unfurled,
I picked up with the hope of reprieve.
But wind, strong,
Carried him on.
No help could I be.
What caused this phenomena
I’d never seen before?
Two, close together,
Not alone to die.
Could they give comfort?
Could they even try?
As I ambled along
This morning fine
One reached for straws,
This one happened to be pine.
Another perched on his wings,
Body raised to the sky.
Is that the pose of a glorious way to die?
These dead and dying royalty
Unexpectedly seen
When I came for my early ocean revelry.
Will this one survive,
Hiding in the track of a tire?
One seems to think
If I can just get away
From the wind and the waves,
Maybe I can delay this painful end
And live another day.
Struggling, striving.
Do they fight?
Do they yield?
Do they die hard?
Some already gone
Resigned to their fate.
Only a body remains.
Do they become bait?
When I came to the beach
Pleasantly surprised was I to see a new swing
Waiting for someone to enjoy a nice seat.
I thought I’d do that, at the end of my retreat.
When I arrived back,
Sadly, it was gone.
The beach truck had come by;
They waved when they’d passed.
October 23, a Monday, must be the designated day
To winterize the shore.
I wish I’d known they’d take it away,
For I would have sat there before.
We don’t know the time nor place
We think, “I can do that later.”
But when later comes,
We’ve already sealed our fate.
Time moving fore
Ecclesiastes galore
Sovereign Lord,
Only You know
When we’ll come and where we’ll go.
You’ve given us the butterfly.
Nature modeling the dual birth.
Form changing,
Mystery revealed.
Eyes, do you see?
Ears, do you hear?
A long while did I walk before those Monarchs appeared.
This, the 42nd anniversary of my father’s death.
God’s glory entered his room that dying day.
His sister, an eye witness, would be forever changed.
When he left with God, fear of death and anxiety left her too.
Young was I when he transitioned Home
Now I’m gray, coming into my own.
I’ll see him again, when I go through,
Jesus the Gate, the Way, and the Truth.
Faith in Jesus, The Christ,
The Only Entrance be
For everlasting Life in Eternity.
Going Home, to be with Thee.
Finished 02/15/2020 Laura L. Hamo