9/19/01

Poem about Michael’s Birth

Now enters the innocent, tender flesh, naive mind—

Conceived in passion, love and caring,

Conceived in the wake of the dead and drying.

The innocent, instinctual urges, helpless form—

Caught in the middle of the war that was not a war,

Caught in the midst of a family rich only in love.

The innocent, strong namesake, tiny body—

Come to change it all with a breath and a cry,

Come to bring the only hope the world could now know.

The innocent, piercing cry, weakened spirit—

Cradled in love by two generations

Cradled by the ones remaining in memory of those who passed.

The innocent, hungry wanting, insatiable intrigue—

Concealed in kindness, protected by love,

Concealed from the troubles of all who came before him.

And now enters the innocent, more precious than words.

Now enters the innocent, more important than purpose.