Thorn

The Thorn in my side is particularly sharp today
It pricks and twists and goads and grieves
my body and my heart
It carves into my mind
and cannot be excised

Oh, that I were a mollusk!
A strange thing to wish, I know,
but then I could blunt the sharpness of my Thorn
with coats of nacre
and make something beautiful out of the pain

I am not a mollusk (alas),
but I have words for nacre
and I will layer them
and layer them
and layer them
until I make something beautiful
until I reflect the One who took
my crown of thorns
to give me a crown of glory.