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Created on: July 19, 2010
TO THE NEWBORN-Poetry
Hello, sweet brand new human, born today.
As new-crowned mother, I bless you. I pray:
That I can guide you through this great new space
Despite the problems you may have to face.
I’m sorry, baby. I can’t shield you from
The hurts, terrors and agonies to come.
I warn you: avoid strangers, watch your friends,
Do well in school, say’ no’ to drugs, and then
I bid you know your God. Have faith and pray,
And maybe you’ll be back with Him someday.
But all mothers hope that. It’s nothing new.
So hear, my love, my mother’s wish for you:
If squalor hems you’round, at least find love:
A hand that fits so comfortably yours
That no one but the Reaper separates.
The day your pockets hold only your keys
And lint, don’t worry. Times are bound to change.
Each day the sun comes up, it smiles anew,
And yesterday’s bad judgments turn to gold.
Be honest when it’s wise. Know when to lie,
And do nobody ill, even unseen.
I pray you live your life in a new world,
Not like the one you've come to visit now.
Green grass beneath your feet. Above you, stars
That only shine at night, in air pristine
Enough for you to fill your lungs without
A fit of gasps and choking coming on.
Clean streets, that you can stroll all times of day
And night, without the fear of those you see
And those you don’t see, screeching by in cars
That might threaten your life simply ‘because’.
I wish all this for you, my child and more.
I’m sorry I could not provide it for
You long before you took that squalling breath
That started your march headlong toward your death.
The little flash of brightness you find here
On this our earth, I pray your eyes are clear
And all the world shines sparkling for your joy.
May your life be all hand-clapping and songs.
Alas, we left you with unrighted wrongs
And no instructions how to set them right.
This task I pity—and I envy—you.
We let so many chances pass us by.
We thought things would get better. And why not?
The world our parents gave us held such good.
No polar icecaps melting for our sins.
No disappearing species to defend.
No Kinseyan cities, overrun with crime.
No smog. No air pollution and no time
To wonder if the End of Times they say
Will crash upon us any given day
Will happen in our lifetimes; cutting short
The days we have to suffer the neglect
We perpetrated on our virgin world.
I pray your cry to let us know you’re here
Will never echo pain, or grief, or fear
From anything we did or failed to do.
This is my legacy, my child, for you.
Learn more about this author, Sandra Lowen.
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