He had little shoes.
Trying to get
to a life
with food.
While my own watches
Megamind,
swathed in
soft cloth.
He had little hands.
Following
with or without
Mommy.
While my own squeals
every time
I kiss him
too long.
He had little legs.
Swallowed up
in an ocean,
and found
too late.
While I flutter over mine
by the pool side,
stress over him eating
enough food,
and make sure he’s happy
as he watches cartoons,
with a clean diaper
and a teddy bear.
This other little boy
exactly like mine
in size, shape, color,
clothes,
shoe size,
is floppy, unmoving,
in that man’s arms.
…Something…
something has got to happen.
Not some kind heart
saving the world.
No.
Because the world is too big.
Something has got to happen
like fire and brimstone,
the globe of Earth melting,
all the great cities crumbling,
and God Himself coming down
screaming!
For it all
to
stop.
So that other little boy
can wake up,
and snuggle in blankets
and watch cartoons
with mine.
He has to.
Author T.S. Lowe 