my father's hands
my mother's thumb
what a strange sum I am
what a mysterious egg
I'm from spermatozoa
engaged by the womb
from the cradle to the grave
through the mortal birth canal
to the immortal tomb
what a bloody mess we're in
life with its hopes and dreams
all this fortitude
all gone too soon
our gracious lives
so full of sin
so many sharp edged knives
carving up our kith and kin
if father's hands
could hold me now
if mother's thumb
could still press me down
perhaps that mystery
where we're all from
a shining light
emanating from some
far off crown
some of us are weak
some of us are brave
through the centuries
of wrong and right
still this wretched
mess we're in
all these births
all these deaths
praised in legend and liturgies
our beating hearts
life giving breath
still our capricious lives
marred by vicious
life and sin
this genetic provocation
we're all in
when sleep finally comes
when timely dreams unfold
that wicked place
where we're all from
will shake the world
shaped with mother's
escaped from father's
timely mold

           * * *