FOR THE BROKEN-WINGED BEE IN SEARCH OF ITS HIVE
By Andrew Hidas
Such nobility in its helplessness,
Not desperate, merely determined,
Heeding no other impulse,
Following no other program
But the relentless quest
To rejoin its mates and
Once again serve its queen.
Crossing vast swaths of concrete,
Like a nomad in the Sahara
Shorn of water and shade,
Exposed and alone in the world.
Surely, such an epic endeavor
Deserves no less than a film score
With mournful violins and a cello
Accompanying each tortuous step.
Instead, an audience of two,
The only music our murmurings
Of admiration and lamentation
For this most primitive of struggles
Against the encroaching doom.
We see ourselves, of course,
In the bee’s long journey,
Seeking home and the solace of our tribe,
The temple of our familiars*
Who wait with words of balm.
Approaching the dark exit road,
Facing our own Sahara of non-being,
Will we take that balm with us, content,
Or beat our wings furiously,
Raging at the dying of the light?**
“In my end is my beginning.”***
No bee ever wrote that or
Any other line of a poem,
Poems being a peculiarity
Of memory and reflection,
Hope and fear,
Yearning and blessing,
Absolution and adulation,
All things human and tender
And noble, too, in this
Garden of Eternal Return.
* With apologies & homage to Alice Walker
** And to Dylan Thomas
*** And to T.S. Eliot
I’m regretting now that I cut the video short on this epic journey…
And finally, this…
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Deep appreciation to the photographers! Unless otherwise stated, some rights reserved under Creative Commons licensing.
Elizabeth Haslam, whose photos (except for the books) grace the rotating banner at top of page.
Library books photo by Larry Rose, all rights reserved, contact: email@example.com
Bee photo and video by Andrew Hidas https://www.flickr.com/photos/andrewhidas/