The Lily And The Rose

No one wants to hear

that they hurt the ones they’re near

and no one wants to know

that poison is all they grow

and a garden shedding petals

resulting from leaded metals

is a sure sign that the rose will never bloom

in the desert or the woods

on the bush or along the vine

there’s a start to all infections

and an end to every time

that once began as happy

and used to be such joy

that somehow became sludge and smoke

covering a broken toy

so what’s to be done

when that realization has come

that nothing gold can stay,

there’s nothing good to say?

you can’t uproot the rosebush

for fear that it will die

but you cannot let it stay there

and watch the lily cry

there’s a simple choice to make

but it will hurt no matter what

it has to be decided

while neither door is shut

without some desperate pruning

of a dangerously sharpened thorn

the end will come as surely

as night precedes the morn

there may be a third option

hidden in the bloody dew

as tough to find as one’s own spine

without a 360 view

so fall to your knees

and beg of the skies

that this healing rain comes

and washes the eyes

of every bird and insect

and every flower too

for if it doesn’t fall soon

there’ll be nothing left to do

but clean and rake the garden

and try to plant anew

so last chance to plant it right

and final water to be spread

before the garden withers

and all the plants are dead

so now it’s time to weep among the thorns

to plow through the broken bloody stems

sift through dirt and sand until we

see the rose has killed the lily

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