The Sting of Bees

A dear friend of mine has been suffering from multiple sclerosis for years. She and I sat down one day for tea and she described how much she missed the days before this disease took hold of her. As we sat together crying my heart ached for her and could only imagine what she was feeling. This poem is written with that in mind.

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Once upon a long, long time ago supple soft and sweet

muscles now snap crackle and twinge like stale rubber bands

driving her wits to nerve’s end

brittle as over roasted nuts caught in candy

she slams into memories

of swings and playgrounds jumping off jungle gyms

chasing ice cream trucks and silly boys

fancy free from coodies and expectation

needles and pins push her flesh into the eye of a needle

pricking at her arms relentless

screaming from the inside with convection like precision

twitching wakes her from elusive slumber

shaking off the down quilt that suddenly turns cement

holding her body captive once again

swarms of bees nip at the nape of her neck

travelling to shoulders consuming like wings of fire

such it is for her

if only dreams came true to fly free

feeling safe in her skin again.

Rough Road

…her blood began to boil…

Falling like a house of cards under thumb of gentle breeze,

the earth now pushed aside and fronds of fern

ripped up from the ground like turnips

From murderous crows spanning wings and talons

flocked from nests once high now low

The red queen saw heart and soul scatter to the forest floor

Picking up the pieces of her past her blood began to boil

Twisted into a human pretzel, her hips on fire, she bled cutting

Through thick and thin she cursed the night where once was blessed and sweet

Turned metal twisted and her body into a wounded mass

A hearth once warm and safe

She found herself now a broken woman, mere mortal in her fate,

Face to face with her anger over it all

Afterall, it was she who was in the driver’s seat.