The Inner Child

You were always there,
fragile, small,
speaking the language of butterflies,
dreaming of wings
when you were still a caterpillar.

I didn't know.
I looked for you in shadows,
in scars that hurt,
in the echoes of a heavy past.

But now I see you.
I look at you tenderly,
I hold you in my flight.

You are no longer afraid,
because now I am the one who takes care of you.

We are no longer wounds,
we are air,
we are light,
we are butterflies.