Sunday, March 26, 2017

Poem of the Week: Brier

Brier: Good Friday

Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm
      Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,
  That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm,
    I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.
  Because I never knew your care to tire,
    Your hand to weary guiding me aright,
  Because you walk before and crush the brier,
    It does not pierce my feet so much to-night.
  Because so often you have hearkened to
     My selfish prayers, I ask but one thing now,
 That these harsh hands of mine add not unto
     The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow.
By EmilyPauline Johnson (Tekahionwake)

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