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While I Wake

By Megan Huwa

Glimmer Spiel


butterflies image





And the breeze,

cool on a summer day,

is You whispering,

this is temporal,

this wayfaring

that engulfs


Only Caterpillars Crawl With Singular Aim

each day marked internally by dye

not of their own choosing.


I do not know—but I will see

life lifted high, this prism butterfly

emerge glorified. And I will see

each glory a wonder of curation,

a flash of dawning,

a new creation.

When Eternity Began


Like after the rainstorm,

when I found a white butterfly

in my jeans pocket

after crawling

through milkweed.

Only looking back

do I live

in such astonishment.


“Fly, Butterfly,” my mom wrote in a note to me at the onset of my illness. These poems are me taking flight, Mom. 


Megan Huwa is a poet and writer in San Diego, CA. A rare health condition keeps her from living near her family’s five-generation farm in Colorado, so her poetry reaches for home—both temporal and eternal. Her work has been published in EkstasisSan Antonio ReviewThe Midwest QuarterlyLETTERS Journal, and elsewhere, and has been featured on The Habit Podcast, Inkling Creative Strategies, and Fieldmoot. Her website is


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