Poem In Response to The Gooseberry Garden Poetry Picnic Week 10~ Of Wings, The Insect Is Shorn

Ah! constant struggle, yet

 Cannot reach the flower

 because of the thorn

 crawling and twisting

 trembling, climbing

  Up the tender twig,

  of wings the insect

  is shorn;

  sorrow seeps sinks

  what does one feel?

  Battle, blatant killing

  fields and one thinks

  why are there flowers,

    steel and splinter showers?

    'as flies to wanton boys'

    are we, the human beings

    toys?  In the minds

    of sinners and sinning?

    When will love again

    Be born?

    O’ Innocent or knowing Insect,

do you know the Way?

    We are lost and gone astray

   

    O Lord, if only I were one-

    I would just creep and crawl

    nor scream nor moan nor  be forlorn 

    But of the flower will think,

    and smile and smile and pray,

    till the end, every day.