Weddings and Monarchs

An unexpected place in Grand Junction Colorado,
My father's friend's backyard.
The afternoon sun stretches across the grass
and we pray that it will hold.
Unyielding fears of ironic rain
spilling forth on outdoor wedding days.
Smoothing out the fabric of my dress,
my family groups around,
congregating by the sliding door till music begins.
The soft melody floats in the air
carried by the wind, our only cue.
The butterflies of nerves flutter
and the line of family starts the steps.
I grip my brother's arm and wait,
feet beginning to ache in my heels.
I gaze with anticipation,
my eyes catching the lights from both
camera and sun.
Smile, breath, fifty faces looking at me.
I clutch the small box in hand and walk to the beat,
not too fast nor too slow.
Winds caress my skin, grapple at my dress.
The arch, elegantly beautiful,
is closer with each step.
Almost there.
I smile wide till my face is split,
and I want to laugh and cry.
The ceremony, lines of sisters, daughters,
brothers, and sons.
All trapped in the Sun's golden warm embrace.
We listen, we wait, holding delicate lives.
And on those final words, I do's and kisses,
we release the lives we held
and the flutter of Monarch wings are heard;
Brushing your ears in a silent thank you.
I stare and wonder,
would I ever know the freedom of a butterfly?