Erin, or Fallen Rose

A fallen rose is no less precious
for having parted from its stalk,
for though alone it cannot blossom
it still bears testament to time.

A fallen rose is no less precious
for having never chanced to flow’r,
for though it lays on cold deaf ground
it still can sing its silent song:
         Stories untold
         Sadness unfold
         Tears bought and sold.
Fallenly stately,
Mournfully joyous,
Eternally fleeting.

A fallen rose is all the more
for having risen to the Lord.