A crib, a growing plant, a madonna’s rocking chair, <br />Moving images of shooting stars and moons: <br />What must be prepared for her arrival? <br />What should properly adorn the world she finds? <br /> <br />While she’s kicking in her evolution <br />In training to abandon the lake-like womb - <br />Summoned to be the embodiment of dreams – <br />The demand persists: how must we prepare? <br /> <br />Nothing of her future can be previsaged, <br />Nor her choices, nor her freedoms of choice: <br />The numbers swell in lines that bind the continents - <br />Some insisting on justice, some applying for bread. <br /> <br />A brightly multi-coloured mobile <br />A trunk of infant clothes, gifted and store-found <br />Await as first inheritance, closeted <br />In a slightly sunlit, meditative room. <br /> <br />Families of ducks gather outside the window. <br />So large our hopes of her, and <br />She so young and small - <br />Our questions burn the tongues of a hundred million more.<br /><br />Frank Bana<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/waiting-for-lindsey/
