No coaching, no discussion, no prompting it just
Spilled as she saw the picture my mom had taken
Such reminders that I am not in charge - never
Have been, never will be - like when the nurse said
He looks like his grandpa - and I couldn't say a thing
But push the stroller back - I am in a kaleidoscope
And the only way out is to swallow my pride get
On a plane then a bus then a taxi walk a few blocks
And encounter who it is that donated himself to
Me - how I came to be, who he is and why I am
It'll be a hard few blocks back, a bumpy taxi drive
a slower bus trip
And a flight that if there is any God will end...
