One hand on throat One hand on heart Deep breath in. Long hum out. Humming the bees back Our voices send the thrum of humming out to the Pacific beach In Chacala, Mexico, where the bees die at the edge of wave and sand. One lone bee hears the humming, Feels the vibration in its amber body striped in black, half buried in sand crystals Humming the bees back Our hands feel the trembling of vocal chords, The beat of our hearts. The bee the size of my thumbnail kicks its back legs, weak and still alive. Translucent wings held outwards show fine black lines like cracks in window panes. Stir little bee. Rise little bee. The wings lie still, the feet go quiet A wave rolls in, the bee is gone and still we hum and the humming grows until the tree leaves hum the grackles hum, the fishermen hum, the children splashing in waves hum. The frigate birds skate the hum across the sky until the humming becomes visible cracks in a broken window. The sky cracks open wide and the humming bursts through and a kingfisher flies into the sky hole with a chatter hum. The whole world inhales. Holds one hand on throat One hand on heart. All is still. The humming is held breath. The bees that are dying struggle to lift their heavy feet from sandy death beds. Then it happens. The grackles squawk it The pelicans open their bucket beaks The trees gather up every leaf in readiness. The kingfisher slices back down through the crack in the sky and the bees stream in, rivers of rivers of bees like a living, humming tail. Bees of every size, 20,000 species and their humming releases the held breath in the world and our humming becomes the healing chant. The lone bee washed out to sea flies up from a wave on glass pane wings that are not cracked, but are patterned with language. The kingfisher lands on her perch Ruffles her feathers, shakes her crested head, Flicks her stubby tail, and rests. Humming becomes lullaby carried on waves carried by tides carried by moon, by sun and by wind. A great gentleness descends upon this broken earth, waiting for flowers to again bloom not on her grave but on her dancing feet that undulate like millions and millions of returning bees. Humming the bees back --by Marina Richie Chacala, Mexico, February, 2019
Love this, Marina!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glorious, Marina. So hopeful. With our thoughts, we make the world, as the old wisdom goes. Hope-filled imagination is such an important companion to action for bringing about the change we want to see in this beautiful world.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Sandra for your inspiring comment! “Hope-filled imagination”
LikeLike
Thank you Marina for your wonderful humming report tonight! It’s so good to come back from dinner here and find your report! Also good that the hummingbirds are bringing the bees back! I just returned from dinner and am ready to fall into bed and am thinking of you and also the magical birds that you find in your wonderful world! i! With cheerful love as always from Mom—
LikeLike
Dear mom–I love that you bring in hummingbirds—while I hadn’t called them that–surely those hummingbirds were part of the great humming in the world that brought back the bees…..thanks for that lovely addition!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful poem Marina!! Wow. Very haunting. Xox caroline
Sent from my iPhone
>
LikeLike
Wonder-full as always Marina! So nice to come back from dinner and finding your newest bird report! ;;
LikeLike