For All My Roses: A Poem

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I twist, I toil.

I stare at the soil.

My body craves the grave.

I work so hard,

Through fear, through pain,

Through cracks to grow in vain.

My thorny body,

stiff and rigid,

Why don't I feel the rain?

Through darkest nights,

and coldest days,

The winds chill always remains.

My soul is hardened,

I feel no pain,

no threat of death, fear of failure;

Can scare me from the grave.

Then upon, one dewy morn,

lights tender kiss warms my thorny veins.

I feel something new, strange yet familiar.

I look up from the grave.

The light, the warmth,

A tender hug, a friends long forgotten embrace.

I realize, knowing no fear of death, I was afraid of what remains.

Afraid of living, in a cold world, melts with the rays.

So now I know, a new purpose.

So strong and weathered,

I remain on the surface.

I grow, I fruit, my bloom unfurls.

for all around my scent aswirl.

A testament, a promise, a convenient of grace,

I can finally share with those I embrace.

For if it weren't for those darkest days,

and a friend's tender embrace.

I'd have withered and sunk back down to the grave.

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