Christian Poetry: Status

a visit, not to the white

‎house but of white coats. 

‎long queue of heads - grey

‎and black; each in a curved

‎row for his time; his turn.

‎now my turn. her warm smile 

‎and gentle touch calmed not 

‎my nerves. a silver metal in my 

‎vein and my thick red liquid 

‎flowed, like a stream of living 

‎water into a plastic container.

‎a white envelope in the hands

‎of him clothed in white. "HIV -ve!" 

‎just what my ears itched to 

‎hear despite her breath and 

‎mine, then, one; her blood, now, 

‎a stream in mine - I laid with her 

‎whose body, an altar for the legion.

‎another test: no long queue of

‎heads; no white coats; no warm 

‎smile or gentle touch; no sticking

‎of syringe. just the two of us; He

‎and I. "Adam, where are you?" He

‎called out! result: God -ve. the truth

‎to my bruised, now scarred body,

‎damaged soul, and dead spirit.

‎1 Corinthians 6¹⁸, Genesis 3⁹, 1 Corinthians 6¹⁹

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  1. My heart started panting when I read that he wasn't still at peace after seeing HIV -ve. God abeg...!

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