Rebirth

The older I get, the harder it is to be a child. Self-evident, I know.

You buy a house and pay bills and generally run your life

But He said the kingdom would only come to the little children.

Do you see the problem here?

Many days I don’t want to be born again.

I don’t want to go back to the beginning. I like the life I’ve built for myself.

(Like a kite claiming ownership over the breeze keeping it in flight!)

Such empty windy words, I sicken myself

Draw the curtain on my illusion of control

Let the stage of my selfish dreams darken like a womb

I guide my nephew’s hand as he Crayola-scrawls his name across the page.

He crows with joy and scampers off to show his father

I see my brother grin and pin the paper to the refrigerator door

Casserole of bright scribbles, love-letter compote

Crying out like rocks for those with ears to hear

I am beginning to understand now.