Like a rosebud amongst the manure
on which it feeds,
are new prospects tainted
by the stench
of the corpse
left behind.
Interests once divulged
into ensuring its existence,
you are now torn apart
by the requirement to accept what's past
as past
and build on its deposits.
As the odour
wafts through the nostrils of your understanding
you recognize
it is not entirely disagreeable;
Underlying the smell of memories to missed,
friendships to take on new colours and
changing of roles
is the subtle sweetness of His hand.
Once clogged by the selfishness of your flesh
-its utter cockiness which propounds that all you think, do and desire is right-
Once clogged by such filth
you could never defer your logical interpretation
to the desires of Him you were created to please.
But now,
(Thank God!)
your mind tickled by the touch of His hand,
you sneeze
And you breathe...
not the stagnancy of what you want
but new sight and understanding
that He is building
and of the joyful necessity
for you to respond
© Chereese La-Vonne Ricketts 2011
