Dear Child,

Let me tell you a story.
A butterfly flew by me once,

and I saw the scars
on its wings.

I asked it,

“Why do you have scars?”



And the butterfly —

the butterfly looked at me

and said

“I have scars because I once,

didn’t see how beautiful I was.

And so I cut

and gave myself scars;
taking pleasure
in the pain;

thinking I deserved it.”



“So child,

the scars
that you see

on my wings?

I gave those,

to myself,

because I couldn’t see

how beautiful

my wings were.”



“I couldn’t see

my own wings;

I didn’t know

and I didn’t see

how truly beautiful
they were,

when everyone could.”



“You humans

are like that too.

You cannot see

your own beauty,

when others can.

You humans

are truly beautiful

in your own way

and unique way too.”



“So yes, child.

I once used to

fly on broken wings,

and that

did not really work;

but still,

I flew —

because I have wings.”



“I fly with scars

on my body

and my wings,

yes.

But I do not care

what others

think;

for I fly,

and I know

that the One

who made me

and crafted my wings,

thinks I am beautiful.”