He knows how to unfold the rose,

But every rose - does it unfold?

He knows - He is the Creator - He knows,

All bleeding hearts are like a red rose.

With the blood drops the colour grows,

As the stab deepens and the nights close,

The Great God who made my heart,

Drains it and unfolds the rose.

My smiles are a blanket I draw to hide,

The countless wounds that I don't confide,

Talk about them or cringe with pain,

Like a wounded eagle I manage to glide.

I have seen much of men and His great signs,

I thank Him yet weep at His grand design,

The bounties and blessings are there no doubt,

But the universe too is on a steep decline.

I am the being whom very few know,

Like the rose He did not unfold,

The frost and cold took their toll,

I withered ere Spring could make me glow.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Composed on July 31, 2002, in response to an inspirational poem sent by somebody quite close to my heart.

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deborah's picture

His warmth rises to greet thin souls
as soft and secret as the rose unfolds.
His tender love, more than man could know,
turns the darkest heart as white as snow.
He cares for his creations day and night
and shelters them from every evil plight.
Not in the time we wish nor when we weep,
but in His time our hearts He will keep.
His greatest signs are unknown, a mystery
when He washes our pain and erases history.
We rise one day to discover new health
And learn Love is found in knowing His wealth.

deborah - kuku