The loud screaming baby, bundle of joy,
traumatized by former lives,
is carefully taken to the father
whose ears hurt more than
anesthetics can prevent.
He lies a smile in disbelief.
Life starts in flabbergasting cold.
A lonely journey begins
from the moment the womb is left.
Loud screaming starter in the hurdle race
of which the distance varies;
your finish appears vaguely on the horizon,
an uncertain blur trembling in hot air,
and although you are too fragile,
too small, too alone:
go for it.
You are a winner anyway for making the effort,
no matter if the wind’s against you.
No matter if the race is short.