Dr. Weeks’ Comment: I met Dr. Ben Yisrael as I meet all great poetic passionate souls – not by coincidence.
And then, being in resonance, but without knowing that I am a beekeeper and the founder, over 30 years ago, of the American Apitherapy Society, he shared this splendid poem with me.
Bee Well (and read aloud)
A Jar of Honey
by Dr. Ben Yisrael
read more here….. https://medium.com/@benyisrael13/a-jar-of-honey-3dfe28a31ad3
All honey bees are members
of the mile high club.
Fly faster
than most people
run, wings beating
230 beats per second.
Like teenage romance
they only live
for 6 weeks
in summer.
In a world
where friends and lovers
come with expiration dates,
they produce a food
that never spoils.
It’s no wonder
we call our lovers
honey, crave
what will not ruin
under the heat
and pressure of time.
We falter
fearing we have stung
or been stung
far too many times
to call any arms home.
Honey bees are not haunted
by the number of their rendezvous.
They aren’t afraid
to get their knees dirty
with the pollen of past lovers.
Consuming up to 150 flowers
to fill their stomach.
My stomach keeps
wrestling against what ifs
and maybe’s that whisper
a woman
that gorgeous
will crush you.
They ask, Why
chase the wind or wildflowers
when there are perfectly planted gardens
for your match?
I won’t kiss you formal or
love you waltz,
black tie and tuxedo.
There are girls and boys
who will buy you flowers
when told to,
who give caskets as gifts…
I will not be your valentine,
or bring you a bouquet
of dying promises
or print a card signed forever.
I have not come for ceremony.
Being with someone
to avoid loneliness
is casting a half-spell
on a halfmoon
and telling her
I’m half crazy about you.
Lovers disappear quickly
as honeybees. We aren’t
brave enough
to hurt.
Scare yourself
if you want to
make something special.
When courting
magnum opus
why settle?
And don’t we all want lovers
who go beyond the mark?
who suck the nectar
from our stomachs.
who love
us
all the way
to our belly buttons.
Not just our lips.
Give me your wings.
I will offer my abdomen.
Let us explode beautifully
Pollen
on the wall! Pollen
on the kitchen counter.
Pollen on the stairway!
Pollen on the bed!
And nectar
dripping
everywhere.
I will
love
you
sticky,
sticky, sticky,
sticky golden
everlasting.
If
I am guilty
of wanting
only you
do not exonerate me
with friendship.
Swarm me with kisses.
Fire into me
with your love
Let it sting
skin
marrow
and atom.
It only takes one ounce
of honey
to give a bee the energy to fly
around the world.
Imagine the damage that can be done
with an entire jar.
I swear to love you
to the final drop.
If just once, cradle me
between the legs
that house the flower.
I need your knees
to carry me home.
Ben Y