The faithful flowers
stand up, and know no more than infants.
They probably looked like this
bright and yellow, facing the sun,
when the first ones of them bloomed.
While the rest of us wake up dreary,
burdened, older,
the faithful flowers are practicing for the resurrection.
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2 comments:
you wrote this right? Isn't this the one you read to Rachel and Val and I on our double date? It touched me a lot just now because lately I have been going over in my head the importance and beauty in being childlike and pure and clean and the importance and beauty in striving to be that way. I don't know, it is hard to put into words what has been going through my head but your poem touched me.
Thanks a lot, Travis. That means a lot.
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