Rose And Thorn Poem by Alizon Kiel

Roses have thorns

Her son lay dying in drapes across her lap dyeing crimson across a white canvas shroud in anguish
Blood itself is an organ with long long notes heard over wind that moans over long long strings blown themselves through long long reeds near the river wound too tight
Somewhere that river parts and branches until flautists sing from a center of bone

Between toes and fingers stretched to a chest entering a rib exiting in a heart’s hollow moaning
Once-were-hearts reprise their beating on this day
His palms facing down seam the earth
Her palms facing up order the loose ends of heaven
In an inside he is not bound
In an outside she is not bound

A body lay low
A soul sent away
His palms ground his body to the earth
Her open palms relinquish him to heaven
And all this time she is letting the world flow through her
Life is pain and in acceptance of this she is neither created nor destroyed

Roses have thorns

What do you need? She says to me
What do you need? She said
She is neither created nor destroyed
She is neither comforted nor unwilling to comfort
Her’s is a miracle where sorrow does not destroy her
Where sorrow does not create another being to replace her strength to lay her low
From her place of power she counterbalances a cloudy sky on a cloudy day

She will not look away
She is neither created nor destroyed
She recreates the clouds above and redefines the son she holds
What do you need? She says
What do you need? She said to me