pain births love

In the silent cemetery,
Out of an ignored grave,
Pushes up a flower,
Many would desire.

But, in the silent cemetery,
Out of the ignored grave,
The flower remains lonely,
Loved she wants to be.

Unseen, unknown,
Grows the infant flower,
Sprouting out her petals,
Struggling through the nettles.

Unseen, unknown,
Grows the infant flower,
Until someone passes by,
Suppressing her cry.

She sees the infant flower,
Trapped by piercing thorns,
Then clears the flower’s way,
And finds beauty on that day.

The little infant Rose,
Grows day by day,
She was conceived in pain,
But is the rainbow after rain.

The little infant Rose,
Grows day by day,
A child of rape,
Curing her mother’s wounded heart so long left agape