A twisted thought that unraveled itself:
What if you come again as a baby, again?
Everyone then just knew your coming would be
circumstanced with pomp, but it wasn’t.
Everyone now thinks similar thoughts, that
you’ll ride in with shoulders broad on justice
and an older man’s eyes refined as if by fire
scattering your enemies from hell to breakfast.
But what if it happens as it happened then,
amid let-it-be’s and shame and the haunted
dreams of just men and the horrible lonely?
You must know, Lord, we’d all be disappointed,
some sorely upset, because a baby’s simply
not what any of us, ever, really had in mind.
John is a free-verse poet at the beautiful due , a blog that I follow. I don’t know anything about him…who he is…where he’s from… what his background is. Nothing.
Except he totally blows me away most days.