Turning around will get you impaled by your own thorns.

Bending down will infect you with the rot of age that clings to your peers.

Past, present, future – all hold pain in a rusted challis.

Before, behind, between – all promise prepositional gloom.

Can no one gift you with what you need to survive?

You know the stench of death comes for you.

Inevitable blight, this root-rot, this fungal spot to strip your leaves of anything of value.

Your only hope is to look up…

Up, where rainbows wink from musical mist.

Up, where the sun tracks his path in a chariot of thorough-bred firebrands.

Up, where Grace lives, where mercy rains from silver-lined clouds.

Up, where King and Court convene to bring justice at last.

Little rose, golden child –

Look up.

16 comments on “Up

  1. Holly Michael says:


  2. poetryandmusings says:


  3. charinfused says:

    Lovely, I feel myself trying to fight root rot but you are right my only hope is to look up.

  4. Hi! I’ve nominated you for the One Lovely Blog Award http://ivonprefontaine.wordpress.com/ Best Wishes!

  5. Caddo Veil says:

    This is wonderful, I love all of it–the phrase, “rusted challis”, is particularly attractive to me! God bless you Big–love, Caddo

    • melodylowes says:

      That’s my favorite, too! I love your comments – they are what I wait for all day! 🙂

      • Caddo Veil says:

        Oh how sweet, Melody–I hope I won’t let you down! Some days, like today, the blog work takes up more time than I really have–but there are some authors I just can’t skimp on!

      • melodylowes says:

        I won’t pressure you to stop by every day. You will need some slack for medical emergencies – but not much. 😉 *giggle*

  6. nightlake says:

    nice words and those flowers from your garden are really beautiful

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