So I will yet roll over, look at you,
and when I see the yawning hole beside
me, I will know the games you play. You do
what I did as a father, with my bride:
I talked to kids so they might know my voice,
I know they heard their mum’s from inside her.
They where our flesh and blood, yes ours by choice
& great the celebrations that there were.
They were still in our world (in special way,
all covered up within their mum’s own flesh)
until they came right out they could not say
that much about who gave them life, enmeshed
as they were there, for she was their own nest
her body would provide their food & drink,
and nothing that she did was “just a test”
for she, & me we're doing what we think
was very best for babe, and that's not changed
(though none of them are babies anymore),
we text & phone, and sometimes have arranged
for visits with each other. It's no chore.
We're learning to look out and think of them
and all our grandkids - what they love/ intend
and sometimes they join in our lives more then
it’s fun for each to now be a good friend.
And unlike our inheritance down here,
the God who made us up, does not then die.
We get to share, like our brain hemispheres,
to work together, as do Left & Right.
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