Thornery

A thorn in my flesh

Defying scissors and blades

A weakness in my bones

The strength I need elusively evading

Pricking, taunting, nibbling

Is it pain, is it pleasure, is it painful pleasure?

I seek surgery

At the operating room, the doctor shows his

I run with my feet

I feel another prick beneath

Another thorn there?

The operating table still in view

The surgeon with his tools

I flee in gloom

At the walkway I see thorns

On humans not on trees

Not on identical parts

Diversity in thorn placement

Then it makes sense

‘My grace is sufficient for you and my strength is made perfect in your weakness’

And may virtue continually flow from the heart to the pen to the paper....