rosebud amongst manure

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