The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly

She didn’t have anyone to tell the good news to.

No one to jump with, cry with, or say “we made it.”

But she still whispered it aloud,

like a secret meant for the stars.

She posted it anyway.

Unsent poetry, soft and trembling,

like a balloon released without a string—

not knowing who would catch it,

but believing someone might.

She used to think silence meant no one cared.

Now she knows:

Even when the room is empty,

Someone from the other side is listening.

Not with noise, but with knowing.

Not with claps, but with quiet protection.

She says thank you.

To the unseen.

To the ones who stayed in spirit.

To the version of herself who kept going

even when no one was watching.

And that?

That’s the kind of celebration

Only the brave understand.

By: Ms. Butterfly Genesis