The Rose Poem by Rich Harney

In a kerfuffle the rose sadly ask,
‘O God will the dew ever sing on my petals
once more? '
and further down the thorn said,
‘Why query of such for it is only a sad tale,
better to ask the morning.'

So the rose with great thirst ask the cool morning,
‘Will your dew ever bless my bashful red again? '
and the morning said,
‘I am but a golden sun
better to ask the black sod from which you sprout.'

So the rose drooping down ask the cool earth,
‘Where is your happy spring
that I may drink of it and be glad again? '
The earth replied,
‘you must ask the sea
for all my rivers and springs flow into it.'
and the rose with heartbreak cried,
‘but the sea is far away,
how will I pickup and go there? '

And the sea shouted from a great distance,
‘inquire ofthe clouds for all my water
rises up to them, silent and invisible.'

And before the rose could open her parched lips to ask
a finger from heaven touched the cloud,
it's black and grey bounty fell as
10,000 happy songs to quench the terrible yen of the rose,
To which the rose asked of heaven,
‘Why did you linger so long at my pleading? '
To which heaven replied,
‘Are you so quick to believe a thorn's doubt?
Only ask and wait a little while
and heaven is overflowing
and poured out.'

‘I am but one rose, ' the rose said,
too, ‘The world is full of roses waiting and some are dead.'

‘Of this I cannot answer, ' said heaven, ‘but your thorn has a clue.'

‘Come my way, ' pleaded the thorn.
‘For you are of a frightening thirst
and then you die anyway.'

To which the rose said to the thorn in sweet of voice,
‘But my petals are beautiful to the world
and if I but stay an hour even as I thirst
and I have you thorn to remind me
that heaven is not the worst
that would be as one moment worth,
As I bless the heavens,
As I bless the earth.'



R. Harney