Its Strength Lies In Its Thorns
Its Strength Lies In Its Thorns
(Valentine's Poem, 2019)
If Love is a rose,
It is a flower fair and fragile.
Of strerner stuff, one might suppose,
Would be a thing so bright and agile.
'Tis swift to bloom,
And dies in cold-
Fades in gloom,
And grows not old,
Abiding but the briefest while.
Yet Love endures, through frost and drought,
Withstands the strongest winds of change,
Gives the lie to every doubt.
What strength sublime, what power strange,
Lies hid within its tender frame?
"Tis nothing of the flower born.
Perhaps the source of its enduring flame
Is not the petals ,but the thorns:
Those defenses quietly arranged.
Yes, it is within the thorns
The rose of love's true power lies.
The barb that cuts, the edge that warns,
Defends the flower from deluded eyes
That see but what they wish to see,
Blinded by the easy days
That draw us to complacency,
Hold us prisoner to our ways,
The while our time together flies.
These thorns define our darker days,
The days of struggle and shared sorrows,
The times when just the true heart stays,
Hoping, dreaming, into tomorrow.
The pains are sharp, remembrance sweet,
We stand and face travail together:
We strengthen with Adversity's defeat,
Enduring into better weather;
The bond grows tight, though it may fray.
Thus, the thorns defend their gentle rose,]
Sustaining it with pain.
The bittersweet all lovers know
Shadows the sun within the rain.
Through silent earth the stem arises,
Pushing past the ancient loam,
The knowing lover well surmises
That down what path his love may roam,
Without some thorn, no greatness grows.
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