The roses in my
Tomb bloom with little violence
Crimson as innocent blood;
I realize others are
Insecurely fragile as well.
This life
Is living proved
Without consequence beyond
The limit of thought
Within minds much overwrought;
Where love requires vacation.
Creativity
Once solid shelter from storms
Becomes a tantrum,
Storm, its own, without control
Each issue written larger.
Isolation is
A rock in the cityscape
Sudden harsh breaking,
Force unleashed to destroy all,
But tattered souls in shadow.
Putting together
Strength remains monumental,
For teaching oneself
Swift to walk on, abandon,
When patience begs, continue.
Stately dragon lies
Upon ashes, abject ruin,
Indeed the phoenix will not
Rise because hope has farther
Flown than ever before known,
Death, dying, fear, sadness roost.
Still, the sky above
Declares itself an instrument
Of God’s inception,
A ceiling painted with wonder
Under which humans flourish.
© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan
Haphazard Creative 