I note where sharp thorns sit, by Joy Lenton

 I note where sharp thorns sit

waiting to pierce us

unawares, elicit shrieks,

for they know how vulnerable

human skin can be,

how easily a barrier

can be broken,

and a raw wound gape

and bleed, like slitting

open an envelope sleeve.

And I'm learning how a girl like me

can hide away, close to a veiled,

unseeing parental gaze.

This bushy undergrowth is like

a world within a world,

one I long to lose myself in,

to press into darkness

while my heart seeks out the tiny,

flickering pinpricks of light

found glittering in the gaps as stars,

gently pointing the way

forward—like a litany of psalms.

© joylenton