My Rose and the Rocks

How can something so beautiful and fair prick so sharply? 

Perhaps it was never meant to be grabbed with clumsy hands. 

Is a rose in a field of dandelions forever to be cursed for its’ thorns?

While others can be soft and fluffy, conflict avoidant to a fault, 

a rose does not allow the world to bend and twist her spirit.

Great beauty could not survive if it did not know how to protect itself, 

but still, how am I to walk safely with the rose across the rocks if I can not hold it?

The thorns are not mine to remove. I must learn to reach around them. 

A lover’s embrace that holds with strength and security without control. 

An acceptance of the thorns as well as petals.

I will prick my finger if I grasp too hastily, so I must meet the rose where she is. 

I will look towards observations before assumptions.