closing my eyes as the sunlight kissed the window
a blooming rose lightly caressing my face,
confessing his deep, passionate love,
wrapping his leaves around me,
protecting me with his mild, earthy scent,
loving me with softness and strength.

As like a Rose,
his body was put to rest.
As many would suppose,
that the Lord Jesus lost to death.
But like a Rose that rises,
Jesus will rise to be alive

He will soon rise again.

I picked her from the garden of Eden
My sweet forbidden rose
The petals of her thighs are a gift that only women have known
I plucked her from the rose bush and felt a pain in my side
A thorn had pierced me deeply and I began to cry
I was destined to be connected to the thorn for life
When sweet forbidden roses were my true desire
I dropped her in the garden of Eden
Along with my hopes and dreams
Now the wound in my side is my constant reminder
Of what could have been

Judge me by my acts not my words,
For the world may be filled with roses,
But I shall be his one and only unique rose,
My importance will reign above else now that he has watered and sheltered me in this glass globe,
The caterpillars he has killed and the butterflies he dismisses are acknowledged,
To the listening ears he lent and the hours we have spent,
To the silence shared and the agony of separation I bare,
I am his rose.

I thought of you today,
It was grander than anything else

Mindlessly applauding
the torn for choosing right
denies the open weight felt
of them not choosing left

The ripping of blank paper
is heard in your
congratulations and affirmations

Giving pride that isn't yours to hold
remains unknowingly empty
Wrapped well
Recieptless

Let go of optimistic ear muffs
and bright yellow shades

Yeild.

Tugging left turns
misled me to the same stop sign
begging to be dismissed

Lost in a spiral,
in my own left turns,

not abandoned but alone

Despite being desperately sought,
these roads are different in the dark

No comfort or guidance
in this backpack made of bricks
with bricks too sharp for a stuffed bear,
bricks too large for a lamp

Concern and direction
slip through
the cracks and the bricks
in the deafening darkness

Left again,
just one more time

What shades am I wearing,
what muffs are mine
that instruction is muffled,
that care is shaded grey

Even still,
my lefts are my right
my right to make
and to hold
and to keep
and to breathe
and to bleed

Save your pride
and your rosey half-full glasses
Hold your applause
and the promise of a later okay

Acknowledge the bricks
I am carrying now

They are concrete

More so,
than the life you see
that might never live to be