Tuesday 28 October 2014

Thorn

Amidst his wander he bumps into Thorn in the garden.  Thorn doesnt warn. He was born to scorn.  "Ouch Ouch Ouch am I in a bout."   Thorn all broke falls to his knees.  He Pleads & Pleads to not wake his queen - Rose.   Rose grows to glow the meadow.
We called the child Thorn
A rose by another name
The cross he would have to bear
 
His jagged frame
a weapon
his enemies no equal
 
This crown of thorns
 would make him Strong
 his name would pierce the flesh
and the heart
of his oppressors
 
He will prick their conscience
Draw blood
And be thankful
for his Anglo Saxon forebears
 
Read it in the Runes
they speak the truth
 
 
Written for Sunday Scribblings 2  #Prompt 43 Thorn