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the mask made of bees
by Ava Blusometimes the things I've done are so unbearable that they become
lightening storms around me
with an impossible end
staring into the mirror no longer catches
the right light
and the wishing well in my sink dries up right before I throw in my last penny,
the last wish of the day
outside I can hear a swarm of bees;
I walk into them,
unafraid of stings,
because the harm inside my door is a far greater fear
and I can no longer stand to see my face
in the light of day. 09/05/2009 Posted on 09/06/2009
Copyright © 2026 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 09/06/09 at 03:24 AM I love the first and last stanzas and how beautifully they tie together, the effortless and brilliant way you so often come full circle is really, really sharp in this one. The stuff in the middle is just as good, but I'm particularly taken by the second stanza. It's a beautiful, heartbreaking, fading sentiment, and it does the best job by far of bridging those first and last stanzas. This is everything confessional poetry could ever hope to be. Great title, too. One of your best. |
| Posted by Anne Boulender on 09/06/09 at 03:37 AM i like the image of a mask made out of bees. |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 09/06/09 at 02:56 PM My God, this really conveys the pain of a depressed soul struggling in what seems like hopelessness.You are so good at painting pictures of emotional dilemmas that permeate our lives. This one is extremely intense and one I too can relate. What we see in our own mirror is often not what others see or what they think we see concerning our own being. It is a battle to overcome and not everyone wins. I am rooting for you. |
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