since the bee sting, my son is a staccato of worry. in his six year old frame there is not room enough for any belief that isn’t a bumblebee waiting six years for him and him alone. I have to enter that darkness. even with the catcalls of real suffering. even cradling
your daughter.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
since the bee sting, my son is a staccato of worry. in his six year old frame there is not room enough for any belief that isn’t a bumblebee waiting six years for him and him alone. I have to enter that darkness. even with the catcalls of real suffering. even cradling
your daughter.
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