Telling the Bees

The rituals and cutoms of communal grief are not practiced as they once were. Thankfully, I can still find solice in words.

Photo by Tania P on Unsplash

Hello dear ones,

I’ve come here with news.

I hear this is what people in the past used to do.

When families each had a beehive in their yard,

To announce they lost one of their own.

The custom was to let you bees know,

all the families’ highs and the lows.

And invite you to join in the celebration, or grief,

And just be a witness to the news.

There are fewer backyard hives these days.

Our reliance on you not felt so direct.

Our yearning to announce our tears, or cheers,

Has been reduced to a post on a page.

Lacking traditions or rituals so deeply desired,

That mark this is no ordinary day.

And so, with great sadness, I come here today

To tell you, our sweet Josie has passed.

Her spirit too big, and her body too weak,

Her butterfly wings ready at last.

All of her beauty, compassion and wit

Are now free to be shared far and wide.

She is no longer boxed by her fear or her doubts,

About sharing what was on her mind.

I ask you, dear bees, to rest as we honor her life,

Take a break from your buzzing around.

And when you go and take flight once again,

Bring a bit of her light off with you.

When you visit the flowers to collect their sweet nectar

Or gather their pollen to spread,

Will you whisper our sadness to them as you go?

For suffering shared is grief that is halved.

And it’s more than we can bear on our own.

If when you’re in flight,

You should happen to see

A butterfly please say Hello,

And then send her a kiss from me.