freshly broken

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite
heart, O God, Thou wilt not despise.  Ps 51:17 KJV


in spite of thorns, plucked roses bow their heads
and slowly weep, knowing they’re already dead.
in company, they constitute a token
that bears the pain of flowers freshly broken.

a virgin clasps red roses sweetly sent
by wide-eyed suitors, swept by sly intent.
she bears no thorns, when passions are awoken:      
behold!  she weeps, a maiden freshly broken!

a horse without a saddle, wild and free,      
defies the wind, craving no company.
but, harnessed fast and forcibly o’ertaken,
it has no thorns, its spirit freshly broken.

in spite of zest, rearmament, and hope,
the human spirit does not always cope.      
pricked by the thorns of words unkindly spoken,
crumbles a man, his courage freshly broken.

a fallen world, proscribed by human choice,
condemns to die men, but His pleading voice
and Crown of Thorns so consummately chosen,      
the chains of death Christ’s Love has freshly broken.

© Copyright 2019 September 18
by Clyve A. Bowen♫