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Brier: Good Friday

Because, dear Christ, your tender, wounded arm
Bends back the brier that edges life's long way,
That no hurt comes to heart, to soul no harm,
I do not feel the thorns so much to-day.
Because I never knew your care to tire,
Your hand to weary guiding me aright,
Because you walk before and crush the brier,
It does not pierce my feet so much to-night.
Because so often you have hearkened to
My selfish prayers, I ask but one thing now,
That these harsh hands of mine add not unto
The crown of thorns upon your bleeding brow.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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Emily Pauline Johnson

Emily Pauline Johnson Tekahionwake commonly known as E Pauline Johnson or just Pauline Johnson was a Canadian writer and performer popular in the late 19th century Pauline Johnson was notable for her poems and performances that celebrated her aboriginal heritage One such poem is the frequently anthologized The Song My Paddle Sings Her poetry was published in Canada the United States and Great Britain Johnson was one of a generation of widely read writers who began to define a Canadian national literature more…

All Emily Pauline Johnson poems | Emily Pauline Johnson Books

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