Longing to Meet Daddy

What can one expect
When the Beekeeper seemed cut out of her life
Like a paper doll?

She had no memories of him beyond the age of eight.
No hugs or kisses. No hello's or goodbyes.
Just the cold stone of his grave
No pats on the back for a job well done.

What can one expect when her mother had done
The best she could?
Did she reason that to see such grief
Would've made things worse?
She hid it, I believe; expecting the same
Of her children.

What can one expect when such a young child
Was denied the opportunity to say goodbye?
So, what is a funeral?
How could she have understood?
All she had was the stone, where he lay;
Kissed by her tears on a rainy day.

There were no memories of him beyond
The age of eight, so she excelled in
Academic achievement; wining every honor
She could...
Writing and writing one gorgeous poem
After the other might have helped her
Bereavement... I don't know.

Exhausting every ounce of creativity
From each word?
Sure! Haven't you read them?
Doctors told her everything would be alright.
Electricity shot through to that brilliant
Intellect, and she just kept writing and writing.

One elaborate poem after the other.
What can one expect, when she'd been intrigued
By the man who tried to jump off his balcony?
She admitted she must find a less painful way
To succeed; but secretly, she cheered him on...

Ted came along and took her to Spain.
"You hated Spain,' he would later write.
She taught school after that...always writing
And writing...
Exhausting every ounce of creativity from each word!
One gut-wrenching poem after another...
Haven't you read them?
Did these help in her process of bereavement?
I don't know...

Freda soon arrived, and also Nick, steering attention
Elsewhere.
Did her carefully nourished craft suffer neglect?
I would say no.
She still kept writing and writing...
One thought provoking poem after the other...
Every ounce of creativity exhausted from each word!
You bet! Haven't you read them??

So what can one expect once Ted had left her,
Leaving an infant, a toddler, and a struggle to
Make it alone in his place?
Still, she kept writing and writing...
One flamboyant poem after the other; all creativity
Exhausted from each word.
Absolutely! Haven't you read them??

Did this help in her bereavement?
I would say no.
Was her desire to stand at Heaven's gate?
I don't know, but her works couldn't compensate, it seems.

The Beekeeper was waiting; and her hope was dried up,
I think.
What can one expect?
Her memories of him only went
To age eight.
What was conjured up that night, Lord only knows!
But as night became day, it was clear:

What fear gripped her mind as the gas stole her conscience
Away?! We don't know!
I wonder, now does she have him pieced, glued and properly jointed?
We will never know.
We just keep reading and reading;
Finding out one curious detail after another--
Exhausting every ounce of explanation from each word.
What can one expect with such evidence of longing woven
Into page after page?
All she had was that salmon colored stone on Azalea Path.
Is her longing now fulfilled?
How can we know, with her voice forever stilled?

--CES. (C) 1998.