In something of a spirit of provocation -- not quite as a devil's advocate, I think, but maybe so -- in this post I thought I'd share with you a poem I saw earlier this week. It's by Thomas Lux (whose birthday was on Monday, December 10), from his book The Drowned River (copyright 1990):

Upon Seeing an Ultrasound Photo of an Unborn Child

Tadpole, it's not time yet to nag you
about college (though I have some thoughts
on that), baseball (ditto), or abstract
principles. Enjoy your delicious,
soupy womb-warmth, do some rolls and saults
(it'll be too crowded soon), delight in your early
dreams —-- which no one will attempt to analyze.
For now: may your toes blossom, your fingers
lengthen, your sexual organs grow (too soon
to tell which yet) sensitive, your teeth
form their buds in their forming jawbone, your already
booming heart expand (literally
now, metaphorically later); O your spine,
eyebrows, nape, knees, fibulae,
lungs, lips... But your soul,
dear child: I don't see it here, when
does that come in, whence? Perhaps God,
and your mother, and even I —-- we'll all contribute
and you'll learn yourself to coax it
from wherever: your soul, which holds your bones
together and lets you live
on earth. — Fingerling, sidecar, nubbin,
I'm waiting, it's me, Dad,
I'm out here. You already know
where Mom is. I'll see you more directly
upon arrival. You'll recognize
me --— I'll be the tall-seeming, delighted
blond guy, and I'll have
your nose.

On first reading, I most liked about this poem the image of the booming, expanding ("literally now, figuratively later") heart. Since then, I think my favorite element herein is the open-endedness -- not quite a refusal, more like a simple inability to answer the question of where and whence the soul arrives... and the subsequent cataloging of body parts, potential, family members as if to say, But you know, it really doesn't matter, all that stuff about the soul: We'll have you, and love you, regardless of the answers.

Labels: beginning of human life, human life