A Lily Among Thorns
Thorns are natural and accursed.
They shoot forth from the earth
Without care or assistance.
They slither about and overtake.
Inflicting pain and torment and gorging
Upon the life scattered around them,
They care not whether they lie in sun
Or under the cloak of darkness.
It is here, among the ever-increasing
Threats of violence and doubt
That the planting of the Lily is
All the more precious and rare.
For the Lily is not natural,
And must be sown in order to grow.
She need not question why or how
But trust all to the Sower.
It is a great hardship to blossom
Amongst ravenous and prolific thorns.
But grow she does, with her heart
Pointed directly at the Sun.
She is carefully placed against the backdrop
Of sorrow, drudgery and gloom, yet,
Oddly protected by the very environment
Bent on her utter destruction.
What a breathtaking beauty to behold
When, at last, she awakens
To the Truth of who she really is
And her delicate bloom bursts forth.
~ Laurie Pontious-Andrews