Mother Wasp
Today I watched a wasp try to carry her egg all the way across the garden bed.
It’s weight dragged her down, so she left the babe
Came atop a flower, wiped off her legs
And flew away
I picked up the egg, it’s still-translucent head was beginning to poke out.
It wriggled as I held it
I wondered if it could see the world
If it saw its mother fly away
My mom carried her own baggage away
Left me, at home, to fend on my own
So she could pursue another day
So you ask, “why do I like bugs, when nobody else does?”
Because my mom left before I learned that only birds like bees,
Not little girls with dreams, unaware of how they’re supposed to be.
So I listened to their buzz, buzz in the quiet breeze
And as I watched their selves, I saw myself
Teeny tiny and strong and free