When I had not yet formed you in the womb, I knew you
Jeremiah – still, still, still not a bullfrog
afraid of his Father, cowers like a child
afraid the words that will emerge from
his mouth, will be the words of a child,
has forgotten Who put the words in there
has forgotten Father has known him
since the womb, since before the womb.
A bond formed by an incomprehensible
fusion of holy DNA. Jeremiah, the
forever child, sees the almond tree
Father planted, sees the bubbling pot.
Sees the trouble brewing in the north.
Is given the confidence to prevail there.
And so too it is with our children.
Our children who we know since
before they the womb. Our children
whose words we parse like scientists.
Our children whose DNA is our DNA.
We just travelled through the south,
through cities our northern friends said
we should boycott, whose people we
found to be more friendly than family
only to arrive home and reacquaint
ourselves with the ancient trouble
in the north. Trust your ancient DNA
when you go to where you go.
The north shall rise again.