Thursday, April 19, 2007


The Bees are Dying

They hang as jeweled ornaments on
branches with legs clenched in
tiny fists of unexpected cold.
The bees are dying.

I pluck a stem and cup it in my
shaking hands. As God did for man,
I breathe myself across him.
Life pulses anew.

His segments flex, legs uncurl.
I can not save him, I know this.
For as a bee-God, I am limited.
Only a magician.

Or perhaps my intrusion is more
Old Testament treachery. How has
this bee sinned to be judged to die
only to die again?

I make a bed in tall grass for him
in the hopes that the earth's womb
can preserve what I can not.
This too is fruitless.

The bees are dying. I see them
decorate this field, giving the gift
of beauty with their very lives.
For only their God to see.



Joseph Gallo said...

One of your finest yet, Joni. Very well done. This is a great input poem for workshop class. :-)

Bugwit said...

Beautiful. How far we've evolved from childhood when we can love a fierce-looking, potentially painfull insect.

But they are dying and we are truly lost if they go.

They say that cell phones are to blame and here I just bought one after going without for two years.

Maybe we can evolve further and learn to communicate by dancing and buzzing.

Joni said...

Joseph, thank you. I must say I'm somewhat startled by your comment, but thank you.

Bug - See my post below. I have learned to communicate by dancing (and buzzing). LOLOL

Bugwit said...

I thought you might catch the subtle joke. Now you have to teach the rest of us. :-)

billie said...

The repetition of the line 'the bees are dying' is very powerful - I can imagine it being read out loud, with much emotion.

Very nice!

Samiyam said...

Good poem Joni! (clap!)

I must tell you a bit of hope, however. In my apartment building (which is falling down around our ears here) there is a wild bee colony which has taken up residence in the attic. They fly in and out from a hole in the wall made when one of the rain gutters fell down. I spent my afternoon lying in bed looking out my window and watching hundreds of bees fly in and out of the hive and wondered that in the chinks of our armor, life has managed to keep itself alive.

I sometimes hope that Gaia will get off her ass and spank humanity severely.