A Rose: Untitled By Pi Kielty

A Rose: Untitled

By Pi Kielty

Posthumously—July 26, 2018

A tender tuft, from garden earth, the rose, for the sorrows, that it may heal. And when hearts exclaim their head-filled reigns, a rose that day may seal. Though from its depths, or in zestful climb, a rose may sway divided minds, the sorrow comes because that flower has so little, life-full time. So, let that cupped rose blossom, honored and spirit-fed. Yet from the soil, on those roses, with petals pink, purpling, or fantails of yellows, or the reds, the brown stem, a stick with green leaves, will hide a thorn, wedged, pointed from its greaves. From the rose bush, fear not the meaning with unseen dread. Do accept, petal and thorn, like everything, a rose may come, doubled in its edge.