Wild Rose

Wild rose, native beauty

of flower and thorn, stood

rooted, still reaching through

blight and neglect on a

landscape of absence and

exile. I have witnessed this

fixity of green life ‘long

game trails unsullied by

hoe or human resolve, adorning

the floor of the forest as

finery, so simple, so forthright,

so attuned to the Unity. So, I

took up this rose to the house

there transplanted, as if

house were tree and

sidewalk, the trail. Pruning only

the matter that died in

years of despair before I

arrived, wild rose now thrived,

buxom splendor, alive, your

pedagogy truth and

goodness your virtue, a

revelation and substance of

creaturely being. I root and I

reach for becoming a man

belonging as native to this

my new land among those in

Presence as I am

of flowers and of thorns.

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