Carnations

If you don’t know what this post is about, you’d best read this first.

She wrote, saying that he had died.

I’m supposed to be traumatized -
terrified – weeping for a week,
But I’m not.
I’m not, and there’s a tingling numbness
in my chest,
Relief… no more
awkward over-dinner conversations,
no more strangled silences over the line,
no more forced hugs.
I get to go to his funeral, and
give Mum carnations.

P.S. I like you, but I prefer my carnations.

This is really a gerbera posing as a carnation, for the purpose of this poem. © yongsheng, so don't you think about it.

I am a Christian (Maya Angelou)

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not shouting “I’m clean livin’.”
I’m whispering “I was lost,
Now I’m found and forgiven.”

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I don’t speak of this with pride.
I’m confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not trying to be strong.
I’m professing that I’m weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not bragging of success.
I’m admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my
mess.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say… “I am a Christian”
I’m not holier than thou,
I’m just a simple sinner
Who received God’s good grace, somehow.

- Carol Wimmer.

——-

Blesses me every time I read it.