Jazz Music poetry Short Stories Uncategorized Urban Legends writing

saint basil the beekeeper

he killed the bees
emily had given me as a young girl
with his many poisons

he raped my life of its sanctity

stricken and sure of demons
desperate to heal
i prayed to the beginning
to send someone to love me
to restore my faith
to return the bees

then came the day
i sought quiet
to write poetry
within the pews
of saint mary’s church

the basilica of the assumption
shamed covington diocese
so german and vast
yet comforting

i was given my answer

a man humble of appearance
had entered silently
standing mid aisle in awe
of the soaring stained glass

weeping as he looked
at the depiction of jesus falling the first time
beneath the weight of the cross

the statue of the virgin drew him
he fell to his knees praying aloud
then kissed the ground

i watched him stand and softly sing
an aria so resonant
it rose to the highest points of the cathedral

he was surrounded by a soft whiter light
i had never seen a holy man before
until that moment
not braced to find one in a church

so i didn’t resist
when he took my hand
led me to a lectern
carved deeply with saints

pointing to the bearded smiling wooden fellow
presenting in his hands a beehive

“Do you see him? He is my favorite. Saint Basil the Beekeeper.”

i am sure of angels