A Take
on Ecce puer by
James Joyce.
A Rosy flower,tender petals surrounding,
The
spongy,soft layers of skin, peeling,
It is just
the new born, new arrival
Cosy from the womb, to this uncomfortable
Cruel Earth,
just born, inadvertantly moving
Its tender nails, scratches over the nose, eyes,
Forehead, Child’s play, God’s play, yawns and
Sleeps . The
dangling cradle echoes a
lullaby
“you have
to perpetuate the memory,
the dawn of
Wisdom,and sacrifice,
The Grandma’s
Glory, life.”
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