JMJ
Red is the Rose
By Caitlin Clancy
Copyright 2013
Note: The refrain of this piece (and the title) is taken from a song by the Clancy Brothers, to whom, I
should add, I am no relative in spite of the name. I
also was inspired by and took some of the image ideas from another song – I
don’t know the title – that was performed at the Arlington Diocese pro-life
youth rally some years back. To
the author of that unremembered song, therefore, I also am indebted. Additionally, I have included some of my own authorial reflections below.
Red is the Rose
That in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water
That flows from the Boyne
And my love is fairer than any
Red was the
Rose
That Friday
morn
Red was the
Rose
Indeed
In its quiet
corner
Of the yard
Its petals
perfect
Arrayed and
starred
Its slender
stalk
Was jerked
and jarred
By a
centurion’s hand
Red was the
Rose
That the soldier
plucked
The bloom
that ne’er
Saw night
And little
did poor
Brilliant
red-heart Rose
Wonder that
pain
Grows and
grows
As the
angered crowd
Crows and
crows
“The Just One, Crucify!”
Ripped from
its bed
Uprooted and
torn
From beauty
unblossomed
Of innocence
shorn
Wrapped in a
loop
Thrice a
curse
Round sacred
Head
Punished
worse
By silence
Death He
would disperse –
And so the
world goes on.
Red is the Rose
That in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Fast in its
knot
The rose was
dead
The Woman saw
it
As He was
led
Upon the
road
Beneath the
cross
The world,
His weight
Their joy,
Her loss
White was the
Lily
Who stood
and watched
White was
the Lily
Indeed
And white
was her veil
Who wept
beside
Who fully
knew
What woe
betide;
She alone
Could not
jeer
She alone
Had Dolors,
not cheer
Who from His
First and silent
year
Knew what
the wise knew not.
Red is the Rose
That in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Sharp came
the thrust
Into the
Temple
The spear
that broke the law
Hard twixt
the ribs
Of the Holy
of Holies
The cold
metal point
Waxed
raw
Clear was
the water
That flowed
from the Temple
Clear was
the water
Indeed
And the rose
pressed hard
On the
bloody wood
And the Lily
wept
As no one
could;
And they
looked on His face
And did not
remain
Knowing the
Child
That they
had slain
And filled
their hearts
With the
blood
Of
Cain.
Red is the Rose
That in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
The rose,
cast aside
On the
hillside,
To wither,
rot, decay
Blossomed
one fair morning
A solemn, paschal
day;
It budded
and it blossomed
It lifted up
its head
Never to
fade or fall again
Never to
shrivel
Never to sin
Never to lie
cold
When the
Word walks in –
As though
all Hope were dead!
Red is the Rose
That in yonder garden grows
Fair is the lily of the valley
Clear is the water
That flows from the Boyne
And my love is fairer than any
Author's Notes:
This poem, if it is not already obvious, centers on the Passion of Christ. I thought that the verse of the Clancy Brother's song especially appropriate to incorporate as the images it presents fit so well with the events of the Crucifixion (for instance, the water flowing from the side of Christ, Our Lady's purity as exemplified by the lily, etc.). Also - and I confess I got this idea from the song-mentioned-above-the-title-of-which-I-cannot-recall - that the rose may be taken as the metaphor of the individual soul and its journey.
And for those of you who (like me) get unreasonably excited by numeric significance and the like: note that the
number of stanzas (refrains excepted) comes to 12 (like the Apostles and the Tribes of Israel): five at
the first, then three, three, and one. I am not sure where the five come from, but there seems to be a kind of unconscious Trinity metaphor mixed into the latter part. But what can I say? It seems to me that such unintentional creations (and the numerical structure of this piece was, I avow, quite unintentional) are likely the simple and natural product of Catholic blood.
