I picked a rose for you,
and the thorns
pricked me bloody.

I was nobody,
but you made me
something.

You made me loved.
You made me
somebody.

Now we’ve grown
into a
comfortable home

with a garden
of weeds
and thorns.

irises bloom
at the edge of the row.
You’ve seen me grow.

You were the garden
that needed
water.

I was never
a gardener.
I was a destroyer.

I was a crown
of thorns
on our Savior.

Frozen in time,
the rose
remains,

dried out,
and in
our memories.

You wore the crown
on our
wedding day.

They withered
but are maintained,
frozen in frame.

I was never
a gardener.
I was your destroyer.

We have seeds
in our garden,
ready to bloom.

Let me be
the gardener
and let our seeds grow.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.