those rose bushes that have struggled mightily all summer to bloom.
that one nearest my front door? got hacked to pieces by inexperienced hands and stayed shriveled up and naked through most of the heat of the last few months.
the buds? they appear and while some burst into bloom, the rest lay their closed-up heads down in defeat.
all the other bushes up and down this street? their slender branches bow over under the weight of their petals.
that one nearest my front door? got hacked to pieces by inexperienced hands and stayed shriveled up and naked through most of the heat of the last few months.
the buds? they appear and while some burst into bloom, the rest lay their closed-up heads down in defeat.
all the other bushes up and down this street? their slender branches bow over under the weight of their petals.
mine? they struggle.
elias? he takes a step without looking and what these bushes lack in blossoms, the make up for in thorns and the blood seeps out from soft punctured skin.
the temperature has dropped and frost has covered the ground outside my door.
and milk joins my coffee all frothy and full.
elias? he takes a step without looking and what these bushes lack in blossoms, the make up for in thorns and the blood seeps out from soft punctured skin.
the temperature has dropped and frost has covered the ground outside my door.
and milk joins my coffee all frothy and full.
i sit in the warmth of a sun covered table.
the questions lately? they have been hard and painful.
and what i lack for in answers, He makes up for in revealing and those places long buried and ignored rise up to the surface.
the little ones play and give chase, oblivious to the war going on in the kitchen...the one being written out in the pages of a worn and ragged journal.
the sun rises higher and the frost slowly thaws and i draw my feet up under me.
i don't know what to do...
how to handle what He so tenderly reveals.
i buried pain so long ago, pushed it under while it still gasped for air.
to be honest? it never stopped gasping...i've just chosen to look the other way.
the rose bushes stopped struggling, a few days before.
they stopped struggling when the temperature dropped.
my fingers ran red as i snipped off their blooms, brought them in and filled up jars of faith and love.
i sit in the warmth of a sun covered table and the air that surrounds me is heavy with the scent of them.
palest pink, almost translucent ~ as though what had been hacked apart and ruined had almost given up hope that it could bring about beauty.
the scent of them...the fire in them opened up and gathered on my table remind this weary heart that there is hope to be found
the rose bushes stopped struggling, a few days before.
they stopped struggling when the temperature dropped.
my fingers ran red as i snipped off their blooms, brought them in and filled up jars of faith and love.
i sit in the warmth of a sun covered table and the air that surrounds me is heavy with the scent of them.
palest pink, almost translucent ~ as though what had been hacked apart and ruined had almost given up hope that it could bring about beauty.
the scent of them...the fire in them opened up and gathered on my table remind this weary heart that there is hope to be found
