from my father to my unborn self

A Poem by Maggie Munday O.

According to the laws of science, bumblebees shouldn’t be able to fly,

shouldn’t be able to carry themselves

because of the ratio of their body weight

to the size of their wings.

But bees don’t listen to the laws of science, don’t care about man’s definition of impossible.

You are barely a being and yet we have already decided to call you just that:

baby bee.

I know this world is heavy,

but I also know

that this world will be too small for you,

my love in the shape of a little

girl. You will be

the honey that drips from your mother’s tongue and the anger that I can never contain.

Wrap me

around your finger

like the rings of Saturn.

I can’t wait

to fall in love with the size of your hands;

they will carry everything but glass,

that you will smash

under your bare feet instead.

When the doctor first showed us

the Etch A Sketch lines

that were you

and pointed out what was missing,

your mother said, “No.

Our daughter will miss nothing

but the stars that she chooses not to reach for.” I felt the sound

of your heart in my own chest. The beat

was a quiet kind of strong, but it is nothing

compared to the mark

you will make

on this world.

And it was in that moment that I understood

why they call

the leader of the hive

the queen bee.

*First Published in Navigating The Maze