I pressed my claim on this bind
and seized a few of your cells
In the privacy you freely lent
so deep inside of you
And by a little push from papa
formed in borrowed flesh
I came to you, a frightened hare
fresh from the rigors of the bardo
And you received me, gave me flesh
fed me, taught me, released me
Prayed for me as I made my way
into the vices and struggle
Of this craven carnival, with its
barkers and masks
—But first, I came to you
This is all of it your sunshine
where we all warm our faces
It is all of it your day, and
my gratitude should outshine
That cartwheeling sun, for what
you gave, for what you’ve done
Margaret Mary Kubasta Randall (1919-2012)
—
Title respectfully swiped from Jello Biafra, and NoMeansNo.
