Light Shadows
a poem inspired by an image of beekeepers based in Tinúm, Yucatán, Mexico
I once almost wore a veil
into forests of burnt umber
and sea
with the son of a Mexican migrant
smoke rose from a bougainvillea-print
kettle
honey helped settle what steeping didn’t
sleeping did not
smoke dissipated as flames went out
from gaslit stove
gaslit woman
forests still intact
branches skyward
agape
gathering and collecting
sunlight and yellow blessings
I once got stung by a bee
my hands a veil of shame
knowing death
didn’t take me
helicopter seeds and running feet
saltwater and grassmarks
glyphosate-free
gyrated me to mother
Goddess of gestation, of seven years
my inflammatory soul
inflammation
left cheek
birdseye
my reflection left asymmetrical
crooked smile
but different from his
I once gave birth to my flower child
Beatriz
Violet crown
his child, too
but ownership cannot be applied to what is wild
my personal world
headfirst entrance, bright cries
upside down
Ah Muzen Cab
God of bees and honey
thank you
oak trees are
our foot-pedaled playgrounds
liquid sunlight bathes us
shadows of branches
veil us
cloudless sulfur butterflies travel
Bulgarian monarchs, too
I now wonder what it’s like to peek
from the base of a flower
through silver wings of a honeybee
through to personal fulfillment
or what it’s like
to not be in a mental fog
and to be guided by
smoke
misty curvature
inside a log that’s just been cut open
by an apiarist
old practices
or to lose footing
on the edge
of burnt umber and sea forests and
of what’s just been burnt
humility
veiled heroes in off-yellow jackets
on ancient land
ancient souls
soulful yearning
martyrs for woods
martyrs for monarchs
martyrs for honeybees
mothers, girls
my child
little creatures (besides varroa mites)
even him--
blessings
liquid sunshine on my wounds
interpretations are fluid underneath
shade
and with a grounded base.
About the Creator
Kayla Frances Murray
🙞 Southeastern US-based writer/poetess 🙜
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