HIVE / HOPE
I want to tell a story without the word fear.
Something that sounds more like spring; early-morning dew & pastel skies, the smell of lemons & sugar.
But maybe I can't say hope without panic.
There is something sacred in this tragedy.
Watching the bees build their hives, a whole swarm of them, but only one queen.
They can't live without her
(& somehow I understand.
This is a logic much older than I am: there can be no bees without a queen
& just like that, there can be no me without being afraid).
However, this story isn’t over yet.
Who knows, maybe I’ll be queen, one day. Maybe I can learn to control this fear & this buzzing in my head
will finally stop; I’m still hoping, but my hands are shaking all the same.
I want to tell a story without the word fear.
Something that sounds more like spring; early-morning dew & pastel skies, the smell of lemons & sugar.
But maybe I can't say hope without panic.
There is something sacred in this tragedy.
Watching the bees build their hives, a whole swarm of them, but only one queen.
They can't live without her
(& somehow I understand.
This is a logic much older than I am: there can be no bees without a queen
& just like that, there can be no me without being afraid).
However, this story isn’t over yet.
Who knows, maybe I’ll be queen, one day. Maybe I can learn to control this fear & this buzzing in my head
will finally stop; I’m still hoping, but my hands are shaking all the same.