Every birth is a miracle; <br />more of a miracle; not less; <br /> <br />but his two hands and his two feet <br />are tiny miracles in themselves; <br /> <br />the four first toys he’s yet to discover and enjoy; <br />we can’t take our eyes off them - <br />their perfection. <br /> <br />but his face..still crinkled, his lips <br />almost disdainful; as if he’s not yet ready <br />to face the world, put on a face for the world; <br />it’s not even a world to have a view about as yet. <br />Lucky him. <br /> <br />So he doesn’t know as yet <br />that he’s to be named Arjuna; <br /> <br />that he’s yet to discover <br />whether it’s a burden or a blessing <br />to be given that name <br /> <br />which he’ll hear crooned so many times: <br />‘Arj…Arjji…Arjunaji… Arjuna…’ <br /> <br />and gradually it’ll sink in, that <br />there’s someone else… and me myself… <br /> <br />they’d prayed, as is the ancient custom, <br />to bring a great and noble soul into the world; <br /> <br />his father Krish, that’s Krishnaji <br />has taken on a new role too; <br /> <br />there’s more to birth, and name, and life… <br />it takes a lifetime to find out.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/arjji/
