I Listened to the Bees

 


“The body knows things a long time before
 the mind catches up to them.
 I was wondering what my body knew that I didn't.
” ― Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

Am I building a hive of thoughts
or is it simply I hold on to what
I should let whither into forgotten?

There’s no industry in building
on a scrapbook that is filled 
with artful attempts to decorate misery.

Not every seed holds light nor 
does sitting in a dead garden
bring the bee to gather hope’s pollen.

A bee’s wings move with incredible speed
to remain still…Perhaps my mind’s frantic motion
is the sound of my spirit ushering me toward tranquility.

Oh grief, I’ve sat beneath your black lace that teases
with release, but it is I who must seek the sun. 
Even a rose grows when the clock chimes midnight.

I wish life would not bring its hurricanes that demand
resilience, yet do I expect my humanity to give me escape,
when it is the honeybee that fights the hands of men so I might live.  

©Susie Clevenger 2023


Comments

  1. Oh Susie this is one of your finest!! The feelings and thoughts flowing through touch the heart! The closing line is a powerful close to a poem that shall linger in my thoughts! Also, to the quote, I love that book! Always so glad to see you at the Muse my friend!

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  2. This is beautiful! The opening stanza starts the mind wandering with each new line of thought. The reader can feel the journey of grief in search of that much needed tranquility.

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  3. This is a complex and beautifully composed meditation on grief, its nature and limits, and whether one knows these things before one knows the knowing, if that makes sense.

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  4. Beautiful poem and the form is perfect for it too :)

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  5. Sooo nice, I learned a little here, now if I just can keep it.
    Bees yes, where were the birds? :)
    I especially liked the summation, life as a hurricane.
    We near the Gulf Coast know its severities.
    ..

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  6. The poem is sharp with sorrow. The pain soaks through the lines. As does the stillness sought within the frantic motion of wings/thoughts. How to describe the beauty here without dismissing the substance? Just a "grecian urn" of composition, with the bee imagery revealing the sting beneath the sweetness of art, as well as the hope beneath the veil. The third stanza just steals my breath away. Or is it the fourth? I love them all, Susie.

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  7. Read this a few times, Susie. Writing is superb, as is the ending.

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