Tribute to Rose Liberté -
A Dear Friend and True Rainbow Spirit

Dear Butterflies

This is an introduction to the most significant and touching story that I have ever sent out judging by the responses I received after the death of my best friend and confidant Rose Liberté.

Her first story was entitled The Advent of the Butterfly Rainbow Millennium. It is also posted at Woodstock Nation.

Her second and best story is entitled A Day Out of Time with the Butterfly Man . She finished this just hours before she passed away in a head-on collision just two weeks after returning to Bozeman Montana. We are trying to get this one posted on other websites and published in a major magazine or journal.

If you can help get this published or forward it to your friends or post it on your website, it would be greatly appreciated. That is what Rosy was dreaming to accomplish. It is the culmination of her life's quest.

Thanks, Alan

Tribute to Rose Liberté

Over the last six years I've often wondered how and when I would meet my kindred spirit, my cosmic soulmate, my long sought after rainbow warrior, and companion. Since my life has been nothing less than synchronistic and miraculous since taking off on the butterfly path, I viewed this to be somewhat of a paradox.

Where was my sister, my lover? What was taking the universe so long? I once caught myself thinking, "God, I've been pretty patient, but I don't understand the wait. You must have something really special in mind. I can wait a little longer, but please asap."

Then on October 22, 2000 Rosanna Joy Piazza, alias Rose Liberté, came into my life like a healing and graceful wave. Ever since then she has emailed me almost everyday. I was flooded with poems and stories and love and encouragement. Within three weeks she was the most active member of the Butterfly Board. She became an instrument and spokesperson for the butterfly dream, a dream of peace and harmony for all humanity and living creatures on Earth. She chased after that dream all her life. She touched all that knew her. She was a loving mother of six children. She recently came to San Francisco to visit me for a week immediately after the death of her father, Augustine Joseph Piazza. The day before his funeral there was a double rainbow in Bakersfield, Ca and Rosanna showed me the picture on the front page of the local newspaper when she got here. The image of her father peered from the opposite side of the page facing the rainbow. She was really comforted by that.

On February 20, 2001 at 7:22 AM she sent me the finished copy of our story about what she called "her week out of time." The following morning I received news that Rosanne had left this world, the victum of an untimely and tragic automobile accident, just hours after her last work was completed.

I went to the hill that we last sat on overlooking the San Francisco Bay, the hill where we did a meditation. It was the first time Rosanna had a butterfly land on her. In fact, four or five butterflies had landed on her wrist within just minutes. So I was going back there to say goodbye, to that magical place that we had found. When I got there a monarch butterfly landed beside me. It flew away and then came back. I tried to offer it my finger, but it flew away again. I have been back to this place several times since Rosanna left trying to get a butterfly on my finger. A few moments after the monarch disappeared another butterfly landed by my feet. I offered it my finger and it obliged me. It flew away and another appeared. It to hopped upon my finger. After six butterflies had been on my finger I thanked the Universe and left to go home and prepare to go to Bozeman for her funeral.

Yesterday, March 9, was the first day I returned to Albany Hill since the funeral. I was with my Reggae friend Obeyjah back over looking the San Francisco Bay. I thought of Rosy and stretched out my arms. A butterfly came by and landed on my left leg. Obeyjah smiled and the butterfly flew away and was back on the same spot seconds later. I felt like crying but no tears came. I have cried enough. Its time to get some work done so that Rossane's dream can come true. She called it our dream. Now its time to make it OUR dream.

"Hadn't she dreamed in 1969 of joining a mass movement that was ascending into the heavens, chanting with respect all the names of God with equal reverence?"

"Hadn't she dreamed of a simple non-denominational, non-factional way that everyone could unite for the cause of World Peace, since she first met the Peace Pilgrim, that white-haired holy woman in plain blue jeans and T-shirt who marched across the earth speaking simple words of peace resounding from her voice in the purest vibration of peace, echoing out like ripples from a rock of peace thrown into the pond of human consciousness?"

"Hadn't she always known she would one day meet some special Someone who would have the same visions and dreams that she felt burning deep within her heart, Someone with whom she could hold hands and work side by side with to create beauty and transform the world?"

The preceding paragraphs are some of the past writings of Rosanna Piaza.

On January 18, 2001 Rosy sent me this message, "Wow! This is the most beautiful powerful message illuminating what I have been feeling/describing in my writings, etc. Que bella! How delicate and precious like a thousand butterfly kisses pouring through us at every level of micro and macro senses, all at once in a zillion cellular orgasms of light exploding -- i am feeling it today, with your phone call."

I heard a song that reminds me of you on the radio John Denver's "Annie's Song"

"You fill up my senses, like the mountains in springtime Like a walk in the forest... Come let me love you, let me always be with you.... Let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms... You fill up my senses, come fill me again...."

I have decided to set up a memorial fund for her children. I would also like help in getting Rossana's last story published. That would be the best thing we can do for her and her children now. If it gets published we can have a side-bar story about the memorial fund. I feel in some sense that Rosanna's children are now my children, and I will do everything possible to help them and get her other poetry and stories published. The fund will he entirely for the benefit of Rosanna's children and for butterfly gardens to be planted in her memory in an appropriate place in Bozeman and other locations.

If you would like to contribute, please send a check to the Butterfly Gardeners Association/Memorial Fund to 1563 Solano Ave. #477, Berkeley Ca, 94707.

Please read the two stories by Rose Liberte. The Advent of the Butterfly Rainbow Millennium can be found at Woodstock Nation.

Please read her final story, One Week Out of Time with the Butterfly Man.

In love and light, Alan

See also

Rose Liberte
Rose Liberte Bio