Monday, 29 July 2019

Telling the Bees

by Joan Leotta

Dear little creatures,
as I look out the window today
I send these thoughts to you—
may you be blessed on this, his day.
I have no hive to shroud
in mourning cloth so
I pour honey on my toast,
libation to our connection.
Take my love to him, my sweet boy.
On the day he was born,
this day, 37 years ago, I could not
taste honey—no food allowed before the birth—
yet I tasted of his sweetness when
I kissed his soft baby cheek
as they placed him on me
newly taken from my womb.
Now he rests and I know you visit
his place, tasting of the clover
flowers sprouting up among the green
where he was laid nigh 20 years ago.
Some people think that grief has a timeline
ending, they want no talk
of tears, time when he walked among the bees.
So, I greet you, dear ones,
honey sweet as he,
dear to me,
take the touch of my lips to him,
remind him that a mother’s love
is forever.

* * * * *

Joan Leotta is a writer and story performer whose poems have been published in a number of journals including Writing in a Woman's voice, Ekphrastic Review, Silver Birch, The Lake, and others. She often writes about her family, strong women, and food. She is fascinated with bees and their importance to human life.

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