Wasp
Outward, the quest for
space and the wings’
hunger to unfold and
shed this home of dark
flesh and encompassing desire.
And each thing remembered, the broken
sheath, the flowering desert’s return,
reflects the notion of being, of intent
in action and its corollary,
the gift of living through death.
* * *
“Wasp” first appeared here in October 2015.
O at the Edges 
How wonderful to weave beauty around this threatening little creature.
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They fascinate me. Most of our local nest builders are docile, or at least not aggressive. But occasionally the others appear, and I’ll have to remove their nests.
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I don’t like disturbing insects, but the aggressive wasps don’t seem to give you much option. They hide their nests and then attack you because you don’t know they’re there. Not fair!
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The ones that insist upon nesting on my front porch annoy me. I’ll let them alone if they ignore me, but after a few aggressive moves on their part, I’ll act. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been stung over the years.
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Me too!! Our insect guy says they’re dumb. Worst combination, isn’t it–aggressive and dumb?
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Especially in people!
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I knew you’d get my point.
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😬
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As annoying as these creatures are, I can’t help but think of the plight of refugees.
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Yes, they seem to be unwanted no matter their intentions, no matter where they go.
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Hate wasps, love your poem.
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Thank you, Don. I admire wasps, but don’t think I’ll be cuddling with them anytime soon.
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great!!
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Thank you, Daniel.
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I wrote about wasps but this is far better you create an entire world my friend, the last line explaining all – incredible, a kingdom of emotion
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You are always so kind, Candice. Thank you.
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Truth my friend in times of challenge always truth.
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There’s that motif again of the birth/life made possible only through brokenness/death. There must be something to it, for season after season, it builds its nest in my heart, and just at the moment I believe I can’t bear another winter, the black sheath cracks, falls away, and reveals a new way to hope.
Thank you.
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It seems I can’t escape it…
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My greatest phobia. Beautiful poem, nonetheless.
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Thank you, Kat. They are interesting creatures, but can be annoying.
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The English summer is plagued by these devils whose use i do not understand.
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They eat and are eaten. Some of our ground dwellers battle tarantulas, and when victorious, drag them to their underground lairs where they lay their eggs in the still-living body of the spider. It’s hard to feel sympathy for the spider, but…
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to be eaten means they serve a function at least, i should know that really, i just hate the things. if only people would give up sweet things they may not be such a bother.
i wouldn’t mind watching a spar off between an ant & a tarantuala. i watched a goshawk slaughter a pigeon & haul it up off the road, or try, a hire car scared it off.
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I’ve never seen the duel in person, but have seen videos. I have, on more than one occasion watched wasps dragging tarantulas across the ground. Impressive.
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Perfect!
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Thanks, Leslie!
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Sort of like the seed being planted and then growing up with new life! Dwight
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Yes, I think that’s it!
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beautiful
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Thank you, Jyotee.
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What a beautiful piece, Robert. Just beautiful…
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Thank you, Nicole. Much appreciated.
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So beautiful! I felt myself entering into the experience of birth and death of the wasp, extending also to ourselves even.
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Thank you. The cycle extends to us all.
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Awesome!
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Thank you very much.
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Beautiful little piece, love it 🙂
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Thank you very much!
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wasps are fascinating and terrifying at the same time. I love the way you dodged us around our preconceptions of wasps and showed us another way to perceive them.
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They are indeed. I respect them as I do scorpions – if they leave me alone, I leave them alone.
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thats how i think all nature should be respected 🙂
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Agreed!
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I love the last line. It says it all.
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Thank you, Barbara. It seems they are entwined.
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Just this morning on my walk I saw a swarming of what I am assuming were wasps – although their coats were so shiny and blue. Maybe native to Australia. All the walkers were zigzagging around them. What power in such a little body. I really appreciate how you’ve found the gift of life in them.
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Blue wasps! How interesting. Wish I could have seen them.
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I’m tempted to go back and find them and share a pick … but they were wasps … and it’s approaching 35 degrees celsius … and maybe when I take a photo they’ll turn out to be something much more benign and nowhere near as inspiration. Tee Hee.
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Ours are generally black, brown or rusty red. Blue is truly inspiring!
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They were still there today. I took a picture. And had a play … at a safer distance later! 🙂 https://yourcreativejournal.com/2017/01/30/is-this-a-wasp/
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I loved your musings. Thanks for sharing!
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Thanks for the inspiration Robert 😌
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nice….
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Thank you.
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welcome….
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Pingback: Is this a wasp? – Your Creative Journal
Loved the poem. Will read more of yours in the future.
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Thank you very much!
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“gift of living through death…”
we die a thousand times when sleep, but by sleep every human organ is always healing no matter how deep is the wound.
Yes human body is the culmination of every living being itself
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Hmm. That makes us sound like the Borg.
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exactly, something to think about… hmm
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They have hurt me, and I seek vengeance upon the heap of them.
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I share your pain!
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Well done!
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Thank you!
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