Elegy for the bee-god

Elegy for the Bee-god

Stingless bees
were bred in tree hollows
for beeswax and honey.
Every year, in the month
called Tzec, the bee-keepers
played their raspadores
and danced across the fields
with bells and ribbons
round their feet, to honour
the fat bee-god, who buzzed
in the heated air
to their music.
He lived in a gold house
in the hotlands, and drank
cocoa sweetened with honey.

All’s quiet now, it’s June,
and he’s not here, the late,
the long-forgotten bee-god,
who sped on zigzag wings
across the sky to the faithful.
Cross-eyed, bejewelled
and tattooed, drumming
his fluffy yellow feet
on the tree hollows,
he gave the bees new hope,
and cocoa sweetened with honey.

If I ever find him -
thin, justly offended, dead
in the dry chaparral -
I will put jade beads
and honey on his tongue,
and wrap him in a shroud
of wings, and loop his neck
with pearls from Guatemala;
I will light him candles
of bees wax, bringing sleep,
and he will rest in the shade
of the First Tree,
and wait for me there -
humming a tune, and drinking
cocoa sweetened with honey.

Selima Hill