"Poems are forever floating through my mind and if I don't catch them pin them to the page they are gone forever and what good is that?"
~ My journal (age 14)

Monday, February 28, 2011

The vine

His love like Honeysuckle
grows fervently and unpredictable
taking over the garden of my life
that I have so carefully cultivated

The fragrant vines wind around
the perfectly pruned trees
of my piousness
reducing them to unruly
clumps of growth

And I am so terrified
that the climbing ropes
will obscure the pretty path
I have created for myself
that I hack at them desperately with shears --
wrestling the tendrils reaching for me
until I am left panting and sweating
exhausted by my efforts
to tame what can never be tamed

And there is nothing left to do
but to lie back and rest
in the wild beauty
of his unrelenting love

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