The Newborn. . .

The infant balls her fists
and pounds the transparent air
as if her fists will give her strength enough
to break the frustration binding
her to an indifferent world.

Where no one exalts
the intelligence she came with
nor the energy to make new and
make a difference in this world.

How else to register
her complaints except to disturb
the nights where her caregivers race
to lay down their heads?

How to make them note
that this new human is
one of anxiety pressed beyond belief?
And intending that her presence
will be taken seriously?

We hail the newborn and
wish them well.
The journey is arduous and long.
The bulrushes must be chopped and
a new road must be hewn.

It is a work
not for the fainthearted.
But a one to be done

if school is to keep.

Photo by Jody Simons