Love Poem

If you had been my son,
I would have thought you special
as well. A two-year-old, so beautiful
and small, hit by a big car, who
lived to be a boy and then a man.
I would have prayed at your bedside
in worry and fear of loss, of what could
have been done to somehow stop,
change what happened, squelch
the impulse that sent you running
into the busy roadway that bright
Texas morning when your world was
fractured, now reduced to a tiny scar.
If you had been my son, the
fact, the truth, that you survived
at all would be proof that this boy,
this child was different, rare, removed
from the worldly and the rational,
living in his own spinning universe,
shining and surrounded by stars.

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