The Ghost of a Bee
The corpses of bees can be easily confused
with the tiny dropped cones of the alder tree
as the gold diminishes in death, and the husk,
which is what remains after the even tinier mites
have had their fill, ossifies to indeterminate brown.
It is no matter, this brittle hollow;
the ghost of a bee holds out it’s acorn cup
and receives the aureate honey drip from the living hive,
small offerings to memory made by the hum of bees
a soft thanks sung beneath the susurration of work.
I have been looking at the painting The Ghost of a Flea by William Blake, who claimed the image came to him in a dream, telling him that all fleas are reincarnations of venal, blood thirsty men. So I've been thinking about the attributes of insects and how they are symbolised, The bee seemed the obvious choice, not just for the rhyming pun on Blake's work, but for their representation of community and love, very much the opposite of the flea.
Lovely – and it reads as if you MUST have closely examined such a corpse. For me it has another layer, whether intentional or not, in the unspoken but inescapable fact that the bees are under threat of extinction now, with dire consequences for us all. Yet I love the way you present them without mentioning that, as a warm and busy community, fulfilling their purpose.
ReplyDeleteThank you Rosemary, I did want the sense of the threat to bees to be present without evangelising on it. I'm glad you enjoyed it!
DeleteYes, I agree Rosemary. It's wonderful to let that be subliminal. I think there is SO much to be said for letting things be and breathe and this poem does that so well.
ReplyDeleteThank you Lisa
DeleteSo rich with connotations Emma.
ReplyDeleteThank you Gail
Deleteyes, really lovely!
ReplyDeleteThank you Efi!
DeleteThank you Rachael!
ReplyDelete