FABLE Poem: A fable, or sorts, by Ambalila Hemsell

I was a bee, I needed honey and
I needed to give honey. I made honey
and I survived on honey. Your
mandibles were askew and your belly
out of sorts. You had very little honey
to give but I knew it was the best honey.
Up close, we were very strange, though
from afar, romantic. When you began
to make more honey, richer, amber-er
than before, you brought it first to
my sister. I had been saving
my honey for you.
I had been hungry and kept holding
on, winter after winter, for you. After
that I became very ugly. After that,
I felt very broken. I felt you had shown
my worst self to me and I did not want
to be the bee that I was. But,
after you saw how ugly I was
you still loved me. You made me
this ugly bee and then you stayed
with me and told me I was beautiful.
I don’t know what to do with this honey.
It is all over me and it will not wash off.
I am not starving any more. There is excess
and you keep giving though we are both
even stranger now. Even more hideous.
And soon, our short bee lives will end.
So here we are, in the honey. Ugly
and alive.

Author: poetryfest

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