Bees

From this morning's poetry slam at church.

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Bees scare me
they are big and noisy
they have sharp stingers
I imagine that they exist
only to hurt me,
and those I love

But bees are benign
they are good,
actually
not marauders bent on destruction
but dutiful laborers
who put sustenance and beauty into my life

When I'm stung,
I dream of a world without bees
of a bottomless can of poison
where I would be safe
free from pain and fear
but I'd be dead, too.