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Thorn Rose

The Soul of the Rose by John William Waterhouse.

Why I reached for the bramble,

The Unknowable knows.

By my hand’s deed, My heart is torn.

Drop by drop my red pain flows.

The only embrace offered, the shredding thorn.

My earthly vesture by layer shorn,

‘Til by the Single Thread  I am left to dangle.

Oh bewildering Bramble, art Thou thorn or rose?

25 April 1992

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Comments on: "Thorn Rose" (1)

  1. Jo Ellen, you are very good and make me ashamed to call myself a poet.

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