My daughter would have been twenty-five
if her birth had not been her death
Grace by name but not by fate
back in the year of 91
in Charity Hospital I witnessed
labor felt as pain progressed
no living soul was at the end.
After quarter century I still stand
daughter's ashes on the shelf
no children have filled my house
now I see these surrogates
young adults on the brink
so bright to step out on their own
with potential none shall deny.
I can see them as the promise
talented with a splash of wit
smile to light the entire world
compassion to cry when it's due
with so much to learn along the way
the future asking what they will do
these things I believe she would be.
Still I fear for these ones
facing trials I never met
when I was their age in the time
before they were born or soon after
in the now the world is cursed
by technology and human progress
with traps Grace will never know.
I long to see where they'll land
as fortune moves them down the road
bound to make their destiny
tossing aside the chains of hate
world's salvation in their hands
substitutes for the one not here
my daughter's proxies in my world.
© 2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161103.