The breeze juggles butterflies across the lawn.
The bees sizzle – frantic – panic –
inside the jar.
Dad readies the coals –
hot red – soon to ash
Neighbors bring the cole slaw,
Bees try not to touch the glass….
Cecil and Shirley,
Neighbors are early,
Jack Russells Spot and Ginger too…
Mom pats the patties
into big burger fatties,
and sprinkles them with salt and pepper too.
Dad ties the apron strings,
grabs a spatula and other things
As Sue watches the bees die….
one…by one… by one… by one
They look so small and far
laying in the bottom of that jar.
Sue used a towel
and my soul felt like a whimpering howl,
when she took the jar of dead bees out of the coals.
The adults didn’t notice,
conversation their only purpose.
Burgers and potato salad and fun.
And I, alone, the only one –
who saw what Sue had done.
Her little bee holocaust
amidst the summer fun.
Had I known her plan,
I wouldn’t have caught them for her.
I was just following orders.
|Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.
Blessed is the flame that burns in the secret fastness of the heart.
Blessed is the heart with strength to stop its beating for honor’s sake.
Blessed is the match consumed in kindling flame.
—Hannah Senesh, written days before her capture by the Nazis
Miss Senesh was a young Jew living in Palestine who joined a group of underground resistance fighters that parachuted into Nazi held territory to disrupt their efforts. She was caught and killed by German forces. I recently had the opportunity to tour the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C.. Whoever you are, where ever you are, what ever your beliefs or feelings about this, please, please, visit this museum.