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#373 Backstory of the Poem “Why Honey Matters” from her poetry collection A Sky Full Of Wings by Ksenia Rychtycka
Can you go through the step-by-step process of writing this poem from the moment the idea was first conceived in your brain until final form?
“Why Honey Matters” first came to mind after an odd experience I had about 18 months after the death of my mother. It was shortly before Christmas, and I was alone in the kitchen preparing to make honey cake for the holidays. I had all my ingredients out and mixing bowls and was just getting started. All of a sudden, I sensed my mother’s presence near me – so much so that I actually spoke aloud, telling her that I knew she was next to me. It was an emotional moment as my mother loved my honey cake and was always so happy when I would bake traditional Ukrainian dishes. At the same time, it was comforting to sense her presence and made me very happy. From this, the poem evolved into three sections about how honey has played an important role in my family history.
Where were you when you started to actually write the poem? And please describe the place in great detail.
I typically write at home, downstairs in a cozy finished basement office where the walls are filled with my daughter’s artworks. There is also a colorful Ukrainian kilim hanging on the wall. That kilim is special to me as my aunt bought it for me when I was living in Ukraine and was made by Hutsul artisans in the Carpathian region where some of my family roots lie. Hutsuls are an ethnographic Ukrainian group that live in the high regions of the Carpathian mountains in western Ukraine. They are known for using bright colors in their clothing and weaving, and their Easter eggs called pysanky are vibrant with green, yellow and red colors and sometimes blue highlights.
What month and year did you start writing this poem?
I started writing the poem in 2019. I’d jotted down a few lines at first and later returned and expanded on the poem.
Were there any lines in any of your rough drafts of this poem that were not in the final version? And can you share them with us?
The poem was revised numerous times and I remember playing around with the ending in particular. I don’t hang on to previous versions once I feel the poem is complete and final edits are made.
What do you want readers of this poem to take from this poem?
The sense of history and tradition that is passed down through generations. Bonds that endure even in extreme circumstances. The cycle of life and death and how we remain connected to our family members through memories, and the legacies that are, in turn, passed on to future generations. Also, how using a specific image or item in a poem can take you down so many different paths. The poem started as a memory of an emotional moment in the present and the deeper I got into writing it, the more it delved into the past. The interconnectedness was a surprise during the crafting of the poem.
Which part of the poem was the most emotional for you to write and why?
Writing the entire poem was emotional and bittersweet as my grandparents, mother and great-aunt have all passed away. But it was therapeutic to get it down on the page and tell these stories – stories that were passed down to me and ones that I experienced too. It all came full circle to be able to return to my ancestral land, to meet family that war and political persecutions had torn apart for many years. And I find it heartbreaking — in light of Russia’s current brutal war in Ukraine — to see how history is repeating itself. My family became reluctant refugees – they wanted to live in an independent Ukraine just like the brave men and women currently fighting for Ukraine’s survival and freedom.
Has this poem been published? And if so where?
“Why Honey Matters” was published in The Literary Bohemian as well as in my chapbook: A Sky Full Of Wings.
Why Honey Matters
I (1944)
Back in Ukraine, Dido loved beekeeping.
Behind barbed wire at an internment camp,
his honey bought bread for Mother, Uncle
and Babtsia. Every crumb prized.
Each morsel gulped. Always aching for more.
II (2018)
Mother comes to me as I’m making honey cake,
measuring out sugar then whipping eggs.
Never mind that Mother left this earth
eighteen months earlier. I can sense her pleasure,
her presence -- palpable as smoke.
I apologize aloud for running out of buckwheat
honey which we both know tastes best. Dark
as amber -- flavored like musk and molasses.
But Mother doesn’t mind. In my empty kitchen,
I sense no disapproval.
Now that Mother’s with me, I grow bold
with my spices. Extra ginger and cinnamon.
Grated orange rind. Splash of rum.
Like Mother, I don’t hold back.
III (1990)
First boil honey. Then cool it.
But don’t get lax. Boiled too long,
honey loses its essence.
Great-Aunt whispers in my ear
after too much Crimean Muscat –
table laden with cheese, kovbasa, crepes,
thick slices of seven-layered honey cake –
one layer for each decade she’s lived.
Homemade cherry wine slips down my throat.
It’s been 47 years since Great-Aunt last
embraced Mother. This morning, in Carpathian
hometown -- a blue door opened. Tremor
of hands. Rush of feet. No words spoken.
Only the chirping of birds outside.
Only the caress of reunion inside.
Click on the link below to purchase A SKY FULL OF WINGS from Amazon:
Click on the link below to read “Why Honey Matters” from The Literary Bohemian:
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