Where The Bees Sting Not The Wilting Cells Poem by Mary Angela Douglas
Where The Bees Sting Not The Wilting Cells
Where the bees sting not the wilting cells
Let us call on white peace like a prism
To irradiate it all
With coolness, with the soothing of light winds
With a touch of mint and the honey of time
Let wounding cease let the cool brook waters run
Let healing music come
Flowing over the rough stones
Stand on the softened earth
And be renamed.
mary angela douglas 23 march 2024
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 7:03:25 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
