Little Princess In A Glass Box Poem by Gert Strydom

(for Gwenavieve Enslin)

Your dad says proudly that he did design you himself:
your eyes, nose and mouth are genetically from him.
Your mother says that she is your own breeding machine,
the paediatrician says that you may go home tomorrow
and it is much more than just a maybe.

Your small long body astonishes me
where you are laying in a glass box with a blue light
and we would not want it any different
where you are growing at the speed of wind
and minutely small sunglasses cover your eyes
against the sharp light that is blinding you
and your grandmother wants to pull you much closer.

Fragile, ill and brittle you lay and wait
and I pray that you will be well on the following day.
© Gert Strydom