Rose, do you know your blood-red thorn
Finds gentle hands and leaves them torn?
Bee, do you know your velvet coat
Hides venom that can close a throat?
Rain, do you know your silver sound
Tolls out the years of those you've drowned?
And nightshade, do you know your breath
Weaves incense through the crepe of death?
Whatever pangs your hands enfold,
Think of the beauty you behold.
If every thief was left to thrive,
No honeycomb would feed the hive.
The torrent drowns a heart's wild beat
And summer's burdens, drought and heat.
A beam falls on the prison floor:
My tender stems have forced the door.
© 2008 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author.