The Gift of Restlessness

It isn’t fully received,
a rose bent over at its neck.
Thorns spaced so holding the stem
is an intentional act but not a grasping,
clenching affair.
Thumb and fingertips
lightly turn the bud bowed
in the prayer of sacrifice, red petal
winged tears glide and rest in our steps,
and we go on another walk.

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