LIGHT BETWEEN THE THORNS

Gather thee a last bouquet,

there,

hidden among the brambles,

see the gentle, frost bit tendrils emerge,
seeking light between the thorns,

sharing a fragrant
blanket to soften
our troubled year,

pick them,
draw them near,
inhale their rich perfume,

exhale the dismay, disruption,
and death,
leaving so many alone, bereft,

no one escaped unscathed,
especially those unnamed souls
who were never claimed
from the city morgues,

too cruel, you say,
too cruel to speak of now,

but when is the time to speak
of all we’ve seen, all we’ve lost,

are we kinder than what we’ve shown,
more callous than what we’ve condoned,

what can we glean from a year
when both have been true,

yet there, in thy fragrant bouquet
we see that flowers find a way,

so will love,
so will hope,
so will we,

find our way,

as we cut back the brambles,
we discover a new year
seeking light between the thorns.

By Rita Bourland

The painting was done by a good friend’s 16 year old niece sometime last year. I saw it a few days ago and was drawn in by its powerful beauty and asked if I could use it to accompany an end of year poem. The girl’s parents and the young artist gave their permission but requested her name not be used on my blog or social media.