across the dimly lit kitchen floor.
In a heightened state of emotion
I had just exclaimed loudly in my mind,
"This is hard! Being a parent, being
a wife, it's so hard!"
And there it was,
ominously under my foot.
The bees in my paintings
represent a dichotomy -
they sting and they make sweet honey.
My friend had come to remind me
this dichotomy exists in all things.
Sweetness and sorrow,
pleasure and pain,
courage and fear.
Then I squashed it.
3 comments:
Saturday Drake picked up a bee because why not right? They're interesting. But it stung his cute little chubby hand. So Gwen pushed it in the pool to die.
Sometimes it's good to look a symbol in the eye, stare into its soul, stomp on it and move on.
(Also, yay poetry!)
Well written sister.
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