Not the Roses

Roses weep their
Jeweled blood
Upon deserts of
-Complaint-
No love we reap
With thorns of
Doubt,
Vicious fear,
Pricked hearts
Without restraint.

Love may in
A flood of tears
Wash into seas
Of time,
Where smiles
Decorate
Parting years,
All things set
Aright,
As gentle dew
Bathes
The roses
And the sun
Kisses
Pleasant gardens
With fantastic
Waves
Of delight.

Still, lifeblood is
Expended in fields,
Roses
Come to rest,
Creativity becomes
The hope to save
From rending;
Infinite test.
We are and are
Not
Known for inside
We lie hidden
Weeping
Often for what is
Forbidden.
Love and fear
Entwine
Become one, the
Same,
Edges cut, glass
Ensnares,
Inside alike
Yet, the time
It takes
More impossible
To reclaim.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

What some call impossible is never far from mind.