Day 293

Little child born with no parents,
who will rock you?  Who
will sing to you?  Little child
delivered alive from your mother’s still womb:
no voice you remember, no arms,
no breast.  Little child, what
will you hold inside you
of the months you spent
inside her?  And your father’s
words, your brother’s laughter?
Who will nurse you?  Who
will hold out a finger for you
to grasp?  Little child, a time
will come when a song, a sigh
will remind you of something
you cannot name.  Yet
there will be those
who love you. Yet
you will carry them with you
whom, in this world,
you’ll never know.