Monday, January 28, 2008
Unfurl for me flower,
but last longer than a day.
My eager wish would coax you from your sheath,
deprive you of the struggle that gives you strength
to thrust your face in brazen gratitude, drinking in the sun,
no certainty, save that with darkness, you will curl and die.
You do it anyway…the cost of those few
hours of His shining, deemed worth your all.
I’d make your struggle less, your glory longer,
and so, less precious.
Change is all that’s sure, for sure,
and struggle shapes us.
I’ll be hanged if I like it.
The heart’s chief concern is its own comfort,
even in loving. We love when it’s joyous,
when we seem magnanimous in our own eyes,
not so much when it hurts and carves us out.
But change is unknowing…vulnerable…discomfor
Lifting one foot from the spot we’ve found just barely tenable…
we plant the other in unmapped country…inching forward
while time itself rips past in moments that can’t be held
or savored…or maybe even recognized.
Maybe the hibiscus has it right, after all…
© Dana L. Veach/2008