Usually when I go to write poems, I don't write them because I was inspired. I usually write them from my heart. Well, the following was inspired by a bouquet of red roses. Dried red roses.
THE UNWANTED GIFT
I am a voice that sings.
I am a mouth that speaks.
I am an eye that sees.
I am a hand that can touch.
I am a foot that can walk.
I am a heart that beats.
I am a life waiting to have wings.
I am a rose wanting to bloom.
From conception in the womb.
I am a musician, doctor, lawyer.
I am a mother, father, husband, wife.
I am a teacher, preacher, reformer, writer.
I am a Washington, Lincoln, Pitt, Wilberforce.
I am a daughter, son, neice, nephew.
I am an uncle, aunt, cousin.
I am the bearer of five generations.
But where are those generations?
They are killed, for so was I.
I was unplanned, unneeded, undesired.
Though I was innocent, I was given the criminal's death.
I am dead, before I am life.
My mother is haunted because of my death.
She'll never experience the gift I could've been.
I am peace.
I am joy.
I am love.
I am a child.
I am a human.
I am someone who can feel.
I am the unwanted gift.
Wow, Natalie... That was beautiful and so touching! You made think about all the future generations that have been lost in our generation. Praise God for His love and forgiveness and that He holds each precious child in the palm of His hand!
ReplyDeleteLove
Kristin