Birth Poem by Ross Lakes

“If your father and I had never met, you wouldn’t even be! ”
That used to bother me a bit, to think that some small twist of fate,
Some feckless little turn of head, some glint of eye or casual wit
Had linked my parents long ago by matrimonial ring and bed,
And brought about my present state.

It concerned me much that I (who thought myself of worth—unique)
Was so conceived and brought to be, on such a dubious anvil wrought,
That, had my parents (even wed) not on that night my age ago,
Decided then to entertain those feelings gentle, soft and warm,
Or gotten sick on the caviar or buttered rum or cheap Champaign,
Or had there (God forbid) been something better on the TV screen,
I wouldn’t even be!

But then the other night I sat and thought about the silly thing,
And suddenly it dawned on me a thing I hadn’t thought before,
That through my birth (my own obsession) , through my accident of life,
Had been conceived a cruel oblation, a biological tit-for-tat.
For in my parent’s jubilation, that ritual of man and wife,
They never could have really known the nature of the sacrifice;
That in that night my seed was planted, deep within and safe to grow,
But with my planting I was handed the scepter,
A power beyond their reason-A staff to guard and rule the womb.

Throughout the months of growing human,
Throughout the weeks of floating bliss,
My brothers, millions came to visit.
But sadly, they were out of season.
And for their temporal indiscretion
Will never feel their mother’s kiss!