Dress of Roses

I have wrapped myself
in this dress of roses,
lashed my life
with its mournful beauty,
welded my body
with its crimson kisses,
soaked up its petal-soft pain.

I cry for release, yet I cling to this dream,
stroke its velvet impossibility,
welcome its tendril embraces
weaving tapestries on my skin.

Who can undress me, if not You –
and yet, and still, You tarry?

Is this the thorn to remain in my flesh,
to remind me without You I'm nothing?

I let go of release and cling to You,
kiss Your silken sovereignty,
welcome my own inability,
empty myself of hope.

Surrendered and expectant,
I move in a field of mellow pain,
float among Your roses,
their piercing ache and glory,
swirling, drifting, holding on
to Your hand in a dance
of complete dependence.