Transformed Self Articles


For many moons around Quenby Hall

The buzzard has ruled the skies

With feathery wing and a plaintive call

High in the sky it soars and flies.


On the mighty wind it glides and hunts

For mouse and rodent and vole

And if one will poke its head from the earth

It will snatch the velvety mole.


Seasons pass, the landscape changes

The animals come and go

The daffodils and croci in Spring

And summer brings the swallow.


And the bees that busy themselves making honey

And butterflies white and red

Crows that fight and shout and scream

As if they've never been fed.


The trees are solid, strong and wise

Are witness to all that has passed

To the might buzzard that rules the skies

That defends its terrain to the last.


The buzzards have young, one or two

Which must feed and feed and feed

On insects and flies while still very young

But to bigger prey this does lead.


From time long ago there is a sacred agreement

Between buzzard and butterfly

That in springtime when buzzard chicks need food

The butterfly is prepared to die.


The oak had witnessed the sacred contract

And observed how things had fared

In exchange for their noble sacrifice

Many butterfly lives were spared.


Thus it passed that both did prosper

For thousands and thousands of years

Until one day a new arrival

Lisped into the buzzard's ears.


"The butterflies are meeting en masse

And are going to break the seal

On the long held agreement between you both

Which will mean there will be no more deal".


But this wasn't true the snake had lied

And was up to its selfish tricks

To anger the buzzard so it would fly off in rage

So the snake could devour its chicks.


In vengeful mood the buzzard descended

The butterflies to destroy

And up slid the snake to the buzzard's nest

Intensely proud of its ploy.


The buzzard swooped and lashed and cried

The butterflies tried to flee

But the noise and the mayhem soon took its toll

And there were left but three.


The bird rose high to make a last dive

And finish off the lunch

The butterflies hid behind the oak

Which the buzzard hit with a crunch.


A broken wing, the bird lay flat

The butterflies heaved a sigh

But relief was short, as overhead

The crow started to cry.


"The buzzard's young are much in danger

The snake is climbing higher

To eat up your chicks, swallow the lot

The slithering cheating liar."


Unbeknownst to the bird the butterflies

Had learnt the power of healing

With flaps of their wings, their magical powers

Gave back the wing its feeling.


'The snake's almost there", came the squawk of the crow

The buzzard felt all was lost

'My precious babies are almost gone

The things I value the most'


But the butterflies had not given up

The bird was back to its best

With towobeats of its wings it rose in the sky

And headed towards its nest.


It caught the snake just in time

The chicks were safe and sound

It threw the slithery, slimy thing

Back down to the ground.


So trust what you know from time long ago

Instead of the voice in your ear

For the slithery slimy toxic thing

Will prey on your deepest fear.



Jonathan Ward
United Kingdom

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