Children are not born with jobs

But I was born to provide, a function

To this family of mine, to be

born with eyes to see, everything

All the cracks and broken wings

And I have seen them pour

What they can, into the cups

Of all who came before, and yet

For themselves, they leave dust

In isolation they place their trust

An isolation that feels so free

They locked the door

And threw away the key

I was born with the capacity

To fill my brain to brim

With every word and phrase

That might resuscitate

those feelings within, they have

long ago shut down as sin

I was born to be a healer

But I was left in pieces

And yet still so loved

By all who saw, the beating

Heart which should not thrive

Still yet it grew, with jagged edges

Like a garden of thorns, overgrown

In a bed of sweet roses

And these jagged pieces, they had

whittled so well, began to pierce

my allies and leave instead, enemies

of small, large, and middling size

For my enemies were clever too

They were slick and from there they slipped

As thin strips of soft metal, smoothly navigating

this garden maze, a straight shot to find

the petals within, and in these enemies

I poured all my love and hopes

Leaving behind, only what

Was sharp and rough but could not cope

Because I have had a function

To see with eyes that pierce

The veil of apathy they wear so well

I thought it was their face at first

And yet the veil does speak

There is an outcry from behind

A voice from which I cannot turn

When I can pour so much more

Into this emptiness I see before

And so I love them even more

Because I was not taught

Children do not have a function

They do not provide a need

They are allowed to exist

And grow with love

Without pouring into mother’s cup

They are allowed to exist

In blindness to the emptiness

Of a father’s still beating heart

They should be taught, to fill

Themselves before they come along

To those whose cups lie still

There are children whose ears

Do not hear the melancholy ache

Of a silent heart that can only take

And so I cry for myself, for all

who I encounter, for all the cries

I hear that I must leave unanswered

Because my function is not to heal

My function is to live and live in love

A love so bone deep, I can fill my cup

Because I can lift my veil and the truth I see

Is I was not born with sharper eyes or better ears

It is that I was pushed, and I was shoved

Into a hole so small, I was molded

Into the tool I thought I was

A hole so small they could fill my cup

And believe they had in fact given me enough