workshop poem

Sometimes you never remember how or when a poem was written. But I have some in which I know exactly how, why, when, where. As described in the last post, I attended a workshop facilitated by Holly Prado. One of the first exercises was to write about something that happened that morning. I remember my first attempts were easy…a song on the radio, driving…and then she said something about reaching further, beyond the ordinary and I came up with the first strands of poetry that would become what is the poem for today.

Before I’d left to drive up to Orange County for the workshop, I went into Laurel’s room to let her know I was leaving and this is what happened.

The Girl Who Dreamed of Bees
by Lizzie Wann

sunlight swarms into her room
while she presses sleepy hands into her eyes
pushes hair casually from her face
she begins to tell me her dream about bees
comes alive
busily working out the details

faint, soft scent of lemon
rises from her skin
white down comforter
slips from her naked body
I am drawn to the curve
of her hip, smooth as a flower petal
I slide my hand over it

we share these pure moments like honey

she is at the point in the dream
where the bees sting her
they are, of course, also drawn to her
to her sweetness, to her unashamed beauty

she wonders what it all means
but I know that she is like melissae
and they are this goddess’ companions
as she continues to discover
the power of their medicine

I leave her
curved and warm in her bed
my mind still buzzing
with thoughts of her skin

I’m happy to say that Laurel is now married to a great guy named Lee, they have a beautiful boy named Henry and are expecting another baby very soon.  I miss her, but just know that we will always be kindreds, whether we speak every day or just a few times a year.

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