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A State Called Regardless

There had been no births in the family
for 30 years
no one knew how to put on a diaper
with two pins
old relatives marveled at the baby
heaven sent wonder to be loved
simply because, it is a baby
and it’s here, regardless.

The baby became the child growing as children do
with no assumption of others
a solitary reflection in a clouded mirror.
Soon they tried to fit a large ball into a small box
filled with dozens of smaller balls.
The large ball bounced freely, off walls, into streets,
not cute and lovable but undeniably obnoxious
and they had to be happy with it or show some kind of like
to remain in a state called regardless.

It must have been a strange feeling
knowing you weren’t people and didn’t
share a common humanhood 
lending no clue as to what this was. 
Here, we had an adult, locked in a mode
forged by other people’s desire or lack of
screaming fire out the playhouse of life
in a self-centered universe
called regardless.

Those old relatives had long since gone to graves
and there was only one
one person from a whole line of persons
Were the elders watching over their miracle baby?
Did they know of the loneliness they had caused?
Imagine, all that generational weight on one being.
Fate, destiny, karma?
Whatever, it left no choices 
but living to carry on, solitary
in a state called regardless.

2/23/18
Your Favorite Poem Written in February    By Laura Loo

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