You may judge me unworthy to comment on this
I’ve no child, so no memory, chaste of their kiss,
Not one bouquet of laughter, to perfume the hall,
Nor a sense of completion, I gave child my all.
So, why count what I never had, now that it’s gone,
For my choices were always mine: master or pawn!
All those fractals of interest, unborn don’t sing,
There’s just adult unconscious they’re missing a thing.
You may ask why I bother now writing this poem,
For far-reaching’s my voice and peace frequents my home,
But the fact is the woman (I love)lost her child,
And her fragile emotion releases the wild.
Now her husband of choice feels child too (lost in wood) ,
The sun rises or sets in the south as it would,
My winter’s through summer, and summer’s just fall,
How child’s heart longs for south lands where summer is all!
Our emotions can always bring child’s gasp to brave,
But to know you’re not master does not make you slave!
But it’s faith to the rescue if you’ll let Him win,
And your soul in God’s hands that sees healing begin.
Brian Johnston
March 25,2018
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