A colorful fleck in a kaleidoscope
floating this way and that, eternally
turned in the hands of a child,
uneasily, I examine my position –
explore every fluid arrangement,
jockey for situations deemed favorable;
fancying myself a player successfully
riding the waves, if not holding sway.
Having no power over the child,
I seek now desperately to know somehow
with an accumulated wisdom
the granted ropes and rules of this realm
for the protection of my little fleck and brood,
no power to leave and trust
the turning of the mechanism
to the delight and whim
of that deeply mysterious, omnipotent,
uncontrollable and mischievous child.
O child of God, your autonomy thwarted at every turn,
still you believe your surrender depends upon you.