This drabble is inspired and dependent upon the poem "White Bee," by Pablo Neruda.
The stanzas of the poem will be in according format, quotations, and italics. My original writing will be in normal/bold font.
Also, there are two points of view in this analysis; keep this in mind whilst reading. The female will be in normal font, the male, bold.
Neruda is an amazing poet; I recommend reading his works if ever you get the chance. The published collection that includes this poem is called "Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair." Read!
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Drunk With Smoke and Honey.
"White Bee" by Pablo Neruda.
"White bee, you buzz in my soul, drunk with honey,
and your flight winds in slow spirals of smoke."
The wind captured my long hair, and I allowed it to swirl, rasping, into my face. So many long strands danced together, blinded me, pressed against my lips; I sucked in a breath, and hair followed, clasping my throat.
I coughed, peeling my rebellious locks from around my helpless face, pressing them behind my ears. The cool breeze kicked up again, having never died, and tickled the base of my chin, caressed my neck.
I closed my eyes, breathing it in.
I watched her.
Although she was unaware, she seemed to sense my gaze upon her, for the energy that surrounded her seemed to suddenly tense and grow anxious.
It had been so long since I had last seen her.
So long.
I was overwhelmed by her; she was everything.
And I knew that I was her everything.
So why couldn't I reveal myself?
Why was I hiding?
"I am the one without hope, the word without echoes,
he who lost everything and he who had everything."
I heard my name being called from a long way off—my name in a whisper, my name in the distant voice of the wind…
"Last hawser, in you creaks my last longing…"
I looked up, my hair still dancing in the wind that so called me, turning my wide, glistening eyes to search for the breeze-voice.
Ah! She was beautiful! Always beautiful, regardless…
"In my barren land you are the final rose.
Ah you who are silent!"
My heart fluttered, a nervous butterfly in my chest.
I smelled warmth and storm…
I felt…
I felt… him.
My eyes pressed shut, and I felt the wet heat of tears lace my eyelashes; the wind carried him to me, and I saw him through closed eyes.
"Let your deep eyes close. There the night flutters.
Ah your body, a frightened statue, naked…"
I trembled in the cool grasp of the breeze. My clean robes felt suddenly threadbare as I fully sensed his eyes upon me. His burning presence… His burning eyes…
She healed me. Sitting there, she healed my tormented heart…
Had I done what was right? Had I forsaken all that mattered?
I didn't care.
There she was, there she was…
"You have deep eyes in which the night flails.
Cool arms of flowers and a lap of rose…
Ah you who are silent!"
She blossomed in my vision like a fragile angel…
So strong in reality, so fragile in the wind…
I stepped into the courtyard, drawn to her.
Drawn by her.
Unable to resist her…
There.
My eyes turned to fix upon him.
There.
"Here is the solitude from which you are absent.
It is raining. The sea wind is hunting stray gulls..."
I showed myself to her, and she saw me.
She saw me, and she stood.
So good she looked…
So good… So warm…
So angelic…
Everything I wasn't.
"The water walks barefoot in the wet streets.
From that tree the leaves complain as though they were sick…"
I stood, gazing at him, my lashes glittering with tears.
I needed him.
I needed him!
I need him so desperately, and he couldn't see…
The tears glittered and fell behind me…
I gathered her to me, clasped her against my with my desperate, loving arms…
"White bee, even when you are gone you buzz in my soul.
You live again in time, slender and silent.
Ah you who are silent!"
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Remarks?