Anam Returning

For todays Poem, I have created and composed something that remains very close to my heart and of course to the hearts of My wife and family. That is a Poem that both honours my late son and also strives to show that Grief and pain, inthe loss of a child does not die, it does not heal like a cut, But Time often seems to crawl by slowly and then Time appears to catch up and young hands becmome as old bones that ache.. Also The Symbol of The Butterfly holds a very special place in Irish herritage..

Important: This is NOT a poem of Child Loss. It carries something much more. It also carries within the lines Some Celtic Beliefs that carries over through usin our journey of this loss. It is A Poem that speaks to This lost childand shows the journey in that loss. It was not composed for sympathy etc But for creative poetry within that field.

Butterfly: The butterfly (Irish word: féileacán) is a potent symbol of the human soul or spirit. They are thought to be the spirits of the departed who return to visit loved ones or bring messages, moving between the physical world and the Otherworld.

Anam: This is the Irish (Gaelic) word for “soul”. It is famously used in the term anam cara, which means “soul friend” a deep, spiritual connection with another person that transcends physical distance.

Passing of a child: A specific and widely known piece of Irish folklore is that white butterflies are the souls of deceased children. This belief was so strong that, up to the 1600s, it was against common law in Ireland to kill a white butterfly out of reverence for the souls they were believed to carry. Whether it is true or not there is a massive reluctance to see any Butterfly harmed, especially the white Butterfly.

Thus Anam Returning as a Title it holds a very special place in my heart… A Butterfly has always been a special meaning and more than a symbol in our loss. As during our sons funeral a Butterfly visted, flew about us , rested on areas tahat meanta lot and then on our sons coffin before taking flight / disappeared…

NOTE: Death does not just take a loved one from our midst, But it leaves a Gap, a Hole nothing can fill, Nor can time or anything else heal or Cause to Forget So much remains of them about us that lives on. May This Poem bring comfort if anything , If you have had such a loss.

Thus todays poem means a lot. Please enjoy and Greatest of wishes for This Christmas season and the new year…

This is not the best image for this Poem But it has to work for this one as the Poem is enough for this topic. . All thanks go to AI and its attempt to provide the image I asked for. Thus credit goes there

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Anam Returning



The coolest collision of colours in mind,
A flame bright butterfly, soft signed, reminds
Of thoughts that turn like Atlantic winds inside,
Spinning you home to me, nowhere to hide.


For many moons you moored this broken heart,
Since young arms held you, loath ever to part.
My sweet young prince, upon my breast you lay,
Till breath grew quiet and light slipped away.


Shattered and shaken, the world stilled its breath,
As we held you fast at the shoreline of death.
The cord of our souls was torn from its seam,
Yet love ran deeper than waking or dream.


Sweet shining son, in our hearts you played,
In fields of laughter that never have faded.
These thoughts walk back to you, step by slow step,
Like pilgrims returning to vows they kept.


They say in this land, when the loved have flown,
The soul takes wing where wildflowers are grown.
A butterfly borne on a whispered prayer,
An anam returning on soft coloured air.


So when you drift by the hawthorn or stone,
Or rest where the heather has quietly grown,
I know it is you, no fear, no surprise,
Just love finding form, before weathered eyes.


Come dance, little soul, in the lengthening day,
Teach joy again where sorrow once lay.
Let heart of mine hold, what time can’t undo,
Old visions still breathing, alive still with you.


Softly and slowly, the sands creep by,
I speak your name as the years reply.
These ageing bones still know you by heart,
Time may move on, we never part.


Not lost to the clay, nor taken by sky,
You live where the old prayers never die.









Copyright © 2025 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved

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ENDING THOUGHTS:

Thank you for following me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. If Life is a journey which we all walk on and my journey in creating Poetry is a journey of it’s own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

At times I experiment on methods or way how I can improve my poetry, therefore getting feed back is always most welcome for such as these.

When I write poetry, some readers may be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.

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