The Thistle

A little personal, but one of my best poems.

Deep

Enclosed in my palm

Lies a thistle

Purple and thorned

each squeeze of my hand

brings pain, a trickle of blood

It hurts

But I repeat the motion

 

God has a flower for me, soft and fragrant

to take the vile weeds place

 

But I cannot let go

The thorns feed my flesh

the vilest pits of my darkest nature

I hate it, but I cannot let go

I want the flower, but cannot let go

Reviews

[A. L. Z.]

It makes me wonder if the thistle stands for one thing, or many things. Are you talking about the gifts God gives in life? Of peace, joy, patience, and the thousands more besides, by letting go of the thistle that is ourselves/ the way we want it, the things we want above His wants? Or is it letting go of one particular thing that is hurting you? I hope you arent afraid of talking personal. The personal poems are by far the most interesting!