Monday, February 27, 2012

"The sweetest honey..."


"Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt...
I had a beehive here inside my heart.
And golden bees were making white combs, and sweet honey,
from all my old failures."

~ Antonio Machado

I couldn't
breathe...
my heart
so pollen-filled...
I choke on every
sad mistake,

my failings fell
like
dust upon
clear innocence,

and
my blossoming
was once again
weighed down with
the heaviness
of what
once
seemed like nothing
more than downy grains,
but gathered into a chorus,
a threatening
cacophony
of
caution..

"i could be ragweed,
or a rose..."

wipe it all away

but
it finds its way
into my
lungs and I am
doubled over with regret and
grief...

it irritates my passage
from sense to
soul,
and inflames my sorrow for
a self that always
did the best it could,
and still
failed to get
it right

but then,
a small soft humming
graced my
heart...

without a word
she
gathered the dust-like
grains of
scattered dreams and
shattered hopes
and
took them
home...
on diaphanous wings
and buried in
the soft-bodied
warmth of
her
tender
heart

she takes them
to the consciousness she
harbors within
her

and turns
it all round right...

she
finds the blessing
in the curse,
she mines the diamond from
the dust,
and takes a rosebud
from the thorns...

on the wings of
her loving...

the once
irritating pollen found
floating on the air,
sifting down the the landscape,
crying from the deep-thoated
flowers,
weeds,
shrubs,
trees...
of my garden,
back alley,
dark forest,
wilderness
heart

becomes
something
beautiful and sweet

she turns my
sorrow into singing,
my grief into repentance,
my hunger for beauty into a love
for the divine.

my pollen into honey,
the water into wine....


"The taste of things recovered
is the sweetest honey we will ever know.”
― Paulo Coelho

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