Yesterday is for the Honeybees

By John Poitier Jr.

When ´ise younger, my aunty put

Beans on da´ rice, 

Sniffles shuffling through the morning air, 

Peeling back the skin of sleepiness on our tongues.

Sweetly, sparrows sung out their gospels, 

And the roses danced , and bowed and trembled, 

Before them.

Bees would come and stay, on our windowsill,

Drunk on the promise of sickly sweet cake,

Making them zip around our heads, 

Bellies full of joy.

Yesterday tasted of happiness, 

for the honeybee, 

not sugary like a mint, but a nectar from the most scarlet rose, or pollen from the most humble daffodil.

Will you stay with me, I’d ask the honeybees,

And they’d stay. 

Now that I’m older, my aunty put 

Her soul in the sky.

Sniffles slicing through the afternoon air,

Peeling back the memory of laughter on our tongues.

Sweetly, crows sung out their elegies,

And the roses danced, and folded, and mourned,

Before them.

Bees don’t come anymore, to the windowsill,

Sobered by the broken promises,

Of what can no longer be. 

Starving for joy.

Tomorrow tastes of tears,

For me.

Bitter like the proud aloe, or tangy like the prideful tamarind.

Would you have stayed if she was here, I’ll ask the honeybees.

The silence tells me what I already know.

About the Author

John Shaquille Poitier Jr., Virginia State University

John Shaquille Poitier Jr. is a Bahamian-born author, poet, and honors biology major at Virginia State University. He is the author of Mangoes in the Summertime, The Birds, and Son of Elohim, blending themes of faith, identity, and mental health. His work bridges science and storytelling, aiming to heal and inspire across disciplines and cultures.