The Wild Rose

I'd like to fall into the Pacific Ocean and float there with my face toward the sun for a few hours.

In college, we had to write a poem summing up our spirituality. Talk about an impossible task. I heard a song by Caroline Herring several months ago called The Wild Rose. I don't know that it fully encompasses my spirituality, but my learnings and growings in the last two years or so, definitely.

When you are hidden from me
When I cannot feel the beating of my heart
Walk me where wild things grow
Where grace and light surround me 
There I'll see my wild, wild rose
Ablaze in all her glory
Choosing what before I chose
The blessings of God's bounty
Light wraps you as you stand
Oh sacred stem in mortal flame
Great roots of night they grow
the things that hide come out again 
Come to me my wild, wild rose
Ablaze in all your glory
Choosing what before I chose
The blessings of God's bounty
"Choosing what before I chose: the blessings of God's bounty." That's about right.

And if you were wondering, here is what I came up with in college (I was a senior) as far as my spirituality goes. Coincidentally, it also talks about floating in the Pacific Ocean. Maybe floating in the ocean is the key to unlocking the mysteries of my spirit. If so, it's unfortunate that I'm landlocked.

I sat listening to Burgundy Shoes
And thought the simple melody
Before the words come
Might be the right theme for my life 
I opened a letter from my father
A picture of my great-grandfather fell out
He had the largest cockfighting circuit in the nation
I cry at the thought of anything dying
I'm afraid of spiders
but I save them 
My waist was 23 inches in high school
Now it's 24, down from 26
It can be 23 if I pull the tape tight
But somehow that's cheating
I don't run 5 miles a day anymore 
I have everything
and something is always missing
I am fulfilled and never content
I am interested and bored out of my mind 
I am floating on my back in the Pacific Ocean
Thinking of nothing
Except for sharks pulling me under
I'm suspended 
I wake up 
There's no ocean
or mountains
Long flat streets with no sidewalks
Bradford Pear trees blooming
Accents I don't understand 
And I love it
But it's still not mine


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