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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