The Honey Times

The Honey Times
 
Everyone tells you about decay
in harsh chopping strokes, words
like arthritis, ugliness, cancer, chronic pain;
or wrap it up in 'wisdom' and 'parchment wrinkles'.
But no one mentions peace and joy.
A comfortable silence...
where once your demons howled - forever,
or so you thought. A flower garden grown
in your heart where, once, broken concrete
displayed the bootings and sprayings of vandals.
The warmth of two fat loving bodies
that would horrify the young judgmental self
- that sensuality of cellulite, of shapes at last
relaxed and fallen, drooping, pollen-heavy.
No one tells you that despite decay,
yes, and illness and pain,
you will know yourself and find ways
to sate your deepest needs; will let yourself
be happy in a home of your own making.
No one tells you of the vivacity, the furious
bee-life fermented into that of the
honey-eater. The sweetness. The plenitude.