beehive

“If I ever catch you with one of them, I’ll kill ya.”

He was a sailor, he was a patriot, a Catholic, a husband

and a good man. He was a bigot, he was

short tempered and self righteous. He was my father. I knew

for the first time

that he was wrong. My godfather, his brother and his beautiful wife

had been talking. A black boy. A white girl. A neighborhood that was

not color blind.

I was seven years old. He threatened some future me

because he didn’t favor that particular darkness.

At my godfather’s house, the only time I can remember, I threw

the yo yo because it slipped. I was a klutz

with no common sense, and little fear. I plunged my hand

into the prickly bush and discovered too late

the beehive. I could not run fast enough. They stung me

seven times. Once for each year that I had lived

asleep.

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About theminstrelscitadel

In search of courageous souls who aren't afraid to dig a little deeper and have a conversation about all manner of things. Rant, rave, debate, discuss... let's do it!
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2 Responses to beehive

  1. Oloriel says:

    Ouch, the image of the beehive and the hand makes me remember all the times I was stung.
    This is a very powerfull piece with a very strong message, that is however gloomy, but I hope it will brighten up soon.

    • Much brighter these days. 🙂 It’s always interesting to me what memories stay with us and which ones we let go of. It sounds as if you’ve had quite a lot of memories stuffed into a short lifespan, Selena. I believe you were born to be a poet, as I was. May you never stop writing!

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