Lou Chmura
PHOTOGRAPHY
A Spiritual Connection with Loss:
The Black Swallowtail’s Message to a Mother Swan and Lone Cygnet
Where Stillness Speaks of signs from loved ones who have passed, and the gratitude found in the shadow of a missing brood.
image title: tHE SWANS AND THE BUTTERFLY
story and photography by: Lou Chmura - July 26, 2026
My camera often acts as a lens for my gratitude, forcing me to find the soft architecture of light even in the heaviest, most shadowed corners of the natural world.
On this morning, the shaded embankment of the preserve was a mirror of quiet sorrow. I sat quietly, overlooking the mother swan and her lone juvenile below me—the solitary remaining heartbeat of a brood that had begun with five vibrant lives. The silence hanging over the shaded sanctuary felt thick with the sudden absence of the four who had gone before them.
"As a photographer, I am trained to watch the wild; as a grieving sibling, my soul is uniquely tuned to the frequency of loss. In the wake of my sister's passing, her profound love of butterflies has evolved into a sacred dialect. Every fluttering visit is a whisper from across the divide—a winged messenger entering my space to prove that the threshold between worlds is tissue-thin. These gentle, recurring reminders assure me that love is never truly lost to the shadows, and those we cherish never truly leave us."
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So, when a magnificent, velvety black swallowtail butterfly drifted into the scene, dancing delicate circles around the little cygnet, my heart leapt with an instinctive familiarity. Sitting under the shaded canopy, I immediately began softly talking to my sister. I whispered to her across the morning air, acknowledging her presence and thanking her for flying across the divide to visit me on the shore.
But as I raised my camera and focused the lens, a breathless realization washed over me: this visitor had not come for me. At first, the cygnet did not know what to make of the unexpected guest. He stilled, his soft gray down vibrating, before slowly extending his neck to get a closer look at his fluttering friend.
For over an hour, time dissolved into a sacred, deliberate ballet. The swallowtail wasn’t just passing through; it was entirely enamored with the swans. It wove gracefully around them, landing right between the juvenile’s tiny eyes and resting on his bill.
When the cygnet waddled down to the edge of the water and stood by his mother's side, the butterfly followed. The mother swan, equally captivated, watched with wide, unwavering eyes. They followed every rise, every fall, and every tremble of those dark wings with a knowing, breathless reverence. It was an unmistakable spiritual connection—a silent, ancient dialogue of recognition. They felt the others. In that suspended moment, I stopped talking to my sister and simply watched in awe as one of the lost cygnets paid a sacred visit home, wrapping the living in the unmistakable comfort of the departed.
A Note of Gratitude
I am deeply grateful for the quiet miracles that find us when our hearts are heavy. I am thankful for the memory of my sister, whose enduring spirit taught me to read the invisible language of love. Most of all, I am filled with gratitude for the grace of the marsh on this morning—for a tiny, winged messenger that reminded two swans, and one watching photographer, that love is a tether that can never be broken by loss, and that the ones we miss are never truly gone.
With gratitude for the spirit world's whispering messengers, bridging our deepest loss with light.
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All Images and Stories By: Lou Chmura