Thursday, January 29, 2009

Poem for Owen; or, the Passion of the Danyos

Here's a scrap of a poem I wrote a few days after my grandson Owen's birth. I found it while I was going through tax stuff this afternoon.

Owen was severely brain damaged at birth. After a big pow-wow he was taken off the respirator, and given him to his parents to die in a family suite at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia.

I think this was my reaction to a social worker at CHOP who came in every hour or so to ask Reetie and Bob, "Do you want morphine for the baby? You know you can call for morphine at any time."

Helpless (Owen's song)

Tick, tock, tick, tock
Mama's lab'ring round the clock
Past is past & future's hocked
Baby's come out all wrong-o

Mama's crying, Daddy pales,
Sister's sighing, Brother quails,
Bleak is bleak, the system fails,
Baby's come out all wrong-o

Call in the doctor, call in the nurse,
Call in the lady with the morphine in her purse
Call in the man with the teeny, tiny hearse,
The baby's come out all wrong-o!

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