One razor blade away
from disaster, tripping
with tip toes on
edges of fatal chairs.

Blackberry stained
fingers, upraised,
imploring rescue
and a simian embrace.

Wielding a toy
like a club with
bizarre calypso rhythm,
in unrestrained joy.

On a rampage, you thrive
on warm milk and soil,
running naked, a savage
in mockery of society.

Pilfering drawers
with klepto cleverness,
searching secret cupboards,
upending laws.

Screaming like
a dog raging blindly
at a blood lit moon
just for fun.

Astonished at what
I have become:
a straight man
to your vaudeville con.

And mother weeps
gently when, in
night terror, you
cry out, "Hommy!"

Whether filthy and
tattered, or scrubbed
clean, or wild,
does not matter.

We need you now,
more than water,
fiercely adored, precious
life, blessed child.

By Robert Hippen, MD

Back to Soul of the Healer Index | To Another Poem by Dr Hippen