I Am Just a Flower

Father I am

forlorn

comparing myself

to other roses

I only see my

thorns

and the trampling of

careless feet

dulling my petals

and making me weak

I myself not taking time

to eat

water from the healthy soil of

your goodness

The lover drunk in thought

garnishes the patch

I watch in wonder if I am worth

half

as lovely as the crisp hughes

I wish I'd have time to repair and prove

that my beaten petals were made by the same hands too.

I have made mistakes

on my intakes

I was long abused and misused

today I am still confused

I have given some care to caterpillars and

the vicious hare

they tore my petals and I feel

each tear

I try to stay strong,

not comparing myself to

those

pretty for so long

not

dulled by the sun

tainted by corrupted ones

In me

maybe the eye of the gentle will see

something trampled and restored

can reflect great beauty

For see, I am no more wilted, neither fallen or dead…

In me a maker has woven His thread-

I am His instead.

He kept me alive, He pruned me free.

Here I am,

impeccably me

Psalm 115

1 Not to us, Lord, not to us
    but to your name be the glory,
    because of your love and faithfulness.

Goodbye Jay

I am resigning from Jay Gatsby
It is high time
to let you know
I am resigning from Jay Gatsby
that fine eternally hopeful soul

a hope he had that was never a fad
unmovable and unbent
his lover went and left him sad
yet he never flinched or winced

determined to keep the past
he gave all morals to woo her
yet ended with a load of cash
and alone, still she with a
wealthy suitor

I must resign from such a plight
the lovestruck hopeful faced
he fought all possible to keep alive
the thought that love
is pure and unfazed

Yet people change
and leave and so
measure you next to numbered
poles
and once a love that says hello
will turn corners and carelessly go

You see, Jay Gatsby is not for me
I am not a boat floating endlessly into the sea
and defying the past
were it so
love would last

I must opt out of his poor conclusion
that the past is repeatable, and dreams are not
less than a delusion

instead I tread on uneven plane
ready to be mocked.
Even the safest earthly friend
can leave one shellshocked.

Poor Gatsby believed that he could gain
the "world within an hour
hold eternity in his hand
an infinity in a flower"

He couldn't bear
a world unfair
and kept hope as a child,
unaltered.

The good man thought
that all he bought
and changed and made
and did

would make him desirable to the girl
his soul did own, and so live.
but I cannot end his way,
wide-eyed and naivety prone.

I am resigning from Jay Gatsby,
who drowned in a pool of his own
blood,
pretending
he was not alone.