The Rose and the Wall

“The Rose that blooms along the wall is a miracle” Thích Nhất Hạnh


The wall is old and crumbling,
Soft loden moss holds it together
but the cracks grow larger,
Soon it will fall.


The season’s last snow
sprinkles white on the moss covered wall
that stands as it’s stood for a hundred years;
it does not rely on my faith to endure.


My face wears the traces
of many frowns, Self-centered
and drowning in sorrow,
I am blind to the sun on the wall.


Just six weeks since snow fell
in April, The earth is splashed
with the sparkle of June, The rose
that blooms along the wall is a miracle.


8 thoughts on “The Rose and the Wall

  1. Sarah,
    So special to me, these words of yours. The morning of my sister’s surgery last year we took a walk together and found a bush with a pink rose. Last week she sent me a picture of our bush blooming with beauty just like your words!

  2. BoardFlak

    Sarah, this is almost like time-lapse photography showing not only the passage of months and the changes in the scene, but the changes in your mood and the impression the wall makes upon you over that same time (“you” being the narrator, whether literally you or not). It makes me remember a flower that grew out by our mailbox for a few years; don’t know whence it came, it just sprouted and grew and returned each year for several years. Nature has its miracles, and it matters not whether we understand them; they have their own purpose.

  3. Michael,

    I was ‘thumbing’ through old posts to find something to put on the Pub and I came across your uplifting reply to my poem. It means the world and I apologize for not finding it sooner. Please forgive.

    (and huge thanks for your kind words)

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