JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

When the medical tests predicted

I would probably be childless

sadness descended. I saw myself

growing old, alone and uncomforted

by precious little hands

 

Yet somehow the sky saw my tears

and it rained children! One, two,

three, four. Unbelievable.

 

So many of the places my four kids

have taken me to are unbelievable.

A son who is blessed with child after

child yet hardly has the wherewithal

to provide them comfortable lodging.

Another son who loves children yet

has remained without his own, and a

third who has remained a child himself

into his tangled adulthood.

 

And a daughter, incredibly

my own – a beautiful late blooming flower.

 

All these thoughts in a week where ten

beautiful children lost their lives in a

senseless avoidable accident.

 

And the world goes on spawning, mourning

and yawning – because that’s the way

the world is.