Sunday, June 07, 2015

The Hum

author's note:

If you'd like to hear me attempt to pronounce "subliminally", click on the little square picture at the bottom of this poem.


One night, I felt so dead
I finally silenced myself down
hoping I might detect a heartbeat

only then did I perceive
the steady hum of a bee
echoing from deep within

and in finding that sound
I found my life again.

Since then,
I've learned how to listen
--and not just to my own bee
   but also to the bees of others:

anytime anyone speaks
the hum of her bee
vibrates beneath the words--

its delicate frequency nearly inaudible

and yet the message
is still received--subliminally--
we secretly share secrets
in innocent conversation:

as you and I talk
my bee might describe
how I ran, hoping in vain
the air would lift my feet

and your bee might tell me
how you spin lively
even though you seem to be
bogged down in a dark swamp.

In these bee exchanges
we get to express
our fears
our embarrassments
our triumphs
our grief...

My bee might likely mention
how this captive met his sentence
with growls and howling

until he finally accepted
what that hum kept repeating:

true progress is a tedious process

power should rightly wear a harness

strength can only grow slowly...

the bee told me:
a barrel of honey is always birthed
drop by drop by drop.

© 2015, Michael R. Patton
myth steps: the blog

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