Another Damned Poem

The Rose

Christ arise a rose
And let our voice depart
And let the standing moment still our hearts,
Our hearts so void and full of doubt
That Christ alone could lift us, gift us,
Draw us back from the flame to the fire.

His love, not ashen,
But hot with the hot heart's heat,
Indefinable and definite and defiant to distress;
As hard men's hearts are always and only dying,
So his love is impractical and alive,
Overwhelming yet free from harsh or feigned intent.

Intent!
Repent!
What slings these are!
And yet
Too much regret, so little done,
Confirms the aching hour of our term.

Come alive! Spring alive!
Christ stings my heart alive!
The loss that beckons surely
Lessens slowly
As hope regains our heart,
As light disdains the dark.

Christ our rose arise
And let your word impart
And let the shaken petals heal our hearts,
Our hearts so void and full of doubt
That only Christ could lift us, gift us,
Draw us back from the flame to the fire.

rcs.

8th draft: 10/15/04
©1980 Ronald C. Southern

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