The rare rose/ Brokenness

 "The Rare Rose"

Thorns do adorn this blossoming rose; her scent is a savour so sweet. 

She grows all alone, forbearing her foes, thus resisting their trampling feet.

The rain weeps down her weather-wore head; the tears reflect off her petals.

The sun makes her blush to flaming red; And in patience she persists through the nettles.

The more she is broken, bruised and beat down, the stronger her fragrance becomes. 

With beauty, through ashes, tears are deep sown. The blessing of joy will soon come.

A nail-pierced hand lifts her nodded head; How The King is in love with His rose! 

He wipes a tear smeared with blood-stained red; Could this love be conveyed in some prose?

This rose, in full bloom, is a beauty to see. She endures every trial, test, and thorn. 

For she cannot repay the love of her King; His blood or His body so torn.

He wore her thorns on His royal head, He gave up His life and His throne.

He paid for her sins- a deep crimson red- so she could be washed white as snow.

How this rare little rose adores her King! Her Beloved is ruddy/white too.

The joy they share is mingled with pain, but there's a distant dream in their view.

And just as her King in victory arose, defeating all death, pain and sin; 

She'll rise as His Bride to Heaven's bright throne; His rose, in full bloom, will live.

So, that lowly rose, all beat down and small, has strength in the depths of her bloom. 

Against all odds, she'll rise and not fall, for her King is coming soon! 

Amen.

#Brokenness #TheRareRose #poetry #Poet #GodUsesBrokenHumans #TheCrushingBringsTheAnointingOil