A SLICE OF LIFE
That humid night I sat huddled
On the corner of my lonely bed.
Feeling like an insignificant grain of white sand on an endless beach;
Like one of the thousand measly ants marching an endless parade.
So many nights I had spent this way,
Stewing away in my misery, gross self-doubt
Tentative in each step, I had been so afraid, Shielded
By the shadows, sinking deeper in my ocean's enormous pout.
My skin itched from the heavy beads of sweat,
In thorough boredom I lifted my eyes;
To the old cracked ceiling fan, its blades
Whirring wearily, letting out raucous cries.
Amidst this I heard a gentle slamming
Against the curtained window to my side
I was startled as it zoomed in, quick as lightening
Steadying itself as it looked for a place to hide
Still wrapped in my depressed bubble, my eyes
Followed it with mild interest as it danced
Frantically and swiftly, higher and higher;
Searching, like me, to and fro it pranced.
And as if in a trance I watched as it hovered
Dangerously close to a blade.
That silent swish, sliced life into two chunks,
On the floor the bee lay dead.
The bubble burst, in epiphany that I had lived another day.
I was cringing away from ever tug of love.
I was shunning every trace of a smile and every tickle of laughter.
I was letting the tears clog my eyes, blinding my mind forever.
Did I want to be unhappy?
I was drowning, but I could resurface still.
And I did, to find the sparkling sprays of water
Eddying toward a vast shore.
I would not let the moments coagulate and steal past me.
I would swim up there past the retreating waves, and explore.
With this I stretch my arms to tear down these curtains of mist, as I cope
With emotions that I cannot yet comprehend, and a feeling of unmistakable hope.