WHERE THE BEES STING NOT THE WILTING CELLS

 

WHERE THE BEES STING NOT THE WILTING CELLS

Where the bees sting not the wilting cells

Let us call on white peace like a prism

To irradiate it all

With coolness, with the soothing of light winds

With a touch of mint and the honey of time

Let wounding cease let the cool brook waters run

Let healing music come

Flowing over the rough stones

Stand on the softened earth

And be renamed.

mary angela douglas 23 march 2024