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The buzz of a bee
Always haunts me Zooming by my ears Elevates my fears Their buzz, their song I hope they do no wrong As my ears ring I anticipate a sting Bee, be good to me Stay at home in your tree My faith in you
will never disappear, not in the darkness the devil casts on my days, for I know you provide the light to find my way. When I walk
My steps are delicate On a nature I wish not disturb. When I stop I hear a song From a nature I wish to always hear. Excuse me for my absence,
my retreat to peace. I need a break, not from you, From the busy, the rat race. Excuse me, it’s time for me, my retreat to my soul. I need a break, not from life, From all of life, except me. Excuse me, I need to focus, my retreat to clarity. I need a time out, a breather, From the clutter, the decisions. Excuse me, I’m not leaving, my journey home begins. The pressure mounts
as my breath draws short, a heavy weight on my chest, and a ringing in my ears as darkness overtakes light, my vision fades, I panic. What’s happening? My fingers tingle unable to grip, unable to hold. My skin beads, a sweaty brow, clammy hands, and a drenched shirt. The room is warped, contracting as I freeze, unable to get to my feet. I begin to fear that I’m dying, buried alive, helpless. To gain perspective,
to clear my mind, I hide in plain sight on a park bench, in a tangled forest. Salt air streams, arousing my senses, a scene develops with a cast of nature’s characters going about their business. The food chain before my eyes oblivious to, or ignoring my presence among, A non-threat. A hide out, a sanctuary, a resource, a library, my hide out. Doodling my darling,
A damsel I desire, Destined to be my wife. Round eyes and lush lips, Flowing locks and childbearing hips, She’s the one for me. We’ll marry in a church, On a hilltop in the countryside, Surrounded by family. A ring on her slender hand, A bouquet as delicate as her skin, Tossed in the wind. Doodling my darling, A damsel I admire, One day a dream come true. From the inside out
infrastructure is decaying beneath our feet, under our home, in our faith. Out of sight, out of mind, neglected and corroded, forgotten by distractions, foundations decaying. Overpopulated cities, stretching the capacity, expanding without opening minds and closing hearts. Forget thy neighbor, it’s all about me, more and more toys, more and more technology. Lost art of conversation. Praying for wealth, not love. Praying for a spot on the team, not the team. Decaying on both knees. Empty churches, empty people. Time for a root canal. |
Robert Stanhope
Writer and photographer. Archives
October 2023
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