Running through thickets of crimson red roses,
Feet pedal through petals of stunning appeal,
Thorns in our flesh and sweet scents in our noses
Growing from lungs that are heaving in doses
Of air mixed with shrubs attached to our heels.
Running through thickets of crimson red roses
Thick with stiff tearing; this life now encloses
Its jaws tightly scribing on skin and we feel
Thorns in our flesh and sweet scents in our noses.
All torments, lest beauty in pain juxtaposes,
New eyes see the blooming, though briers still peel,
Running through thickets of crimson red roses.
The way through the wounds at last re-composes
The pride of our souls, and guides us to kneel—
Thorns in our flesh and sweet scents in our noses.
Thorns crown His flesh, it is pain but He knows His
Choice brings us purpose and healing that’s real,
Running through thickets of crimson red roses,
Thorns in our flesh and sweet scents in our noses.

* “rose” in Hebrew pronounced “shoshana”