The Rose Bush Beside the Wall

Deborah Beach Giordano
© June 13, 2013

The rose bush beside the wall
breathed a piteous sigh,
“Why was I not planted
in the middle of a garden
where the sun is always shining
and my luxuriant blossoms
admired far and wide?”

“Why here?” she asked,
“where I’m all alone,
often hidden in the shadows,
exposed to the cold,
by hard
gray stones?”

“Why here?” she asked,
“why not a nice location,
with rich soil,
green grass,
a gardener or two,
and a nearby fountain
to sip from every day?”

The poor rose bush
often suffered;
set aside and forgotten,
struggling to grow
without much water,
pushing her roots
into the rocky ground.

Seasons passed
yet she persisted,
often weakened
by wind and damp,
her frail branches
barely able to sustain
a few small leaves.

Then one day
in early springtime
a new thing happened,
a single flower
began to form;
a tiny blossom
wrapped in swaddling green.

Day by day,
with each hour that passed
the petals gently unfurled;
slowly, tenderly
a glorious,
utterly perfect
sun yellow rose was revealed

“It’s lovely,”
the rose bush thought,
but soon began to doubt;
“Was the outcome
worth the effort;
a creation fit for a king
that no one will ever see?

At that moment
a Man was passing,
traveling along the road
that led to Jerusalem;
seeing the rose
he stopped and smiled
“God is good,” was what he said.


About inklingscommunity

I am a struggling Christian, committed pacifist, near-obsessive recycler, incurable animal lover, inveterate tree-hugger; a nature mystic, a socialized introvert, an advocate for the vulnerable, an opponent of exploiters.
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