Oh God, come any other way,
but not as a child.
Come in a space ship
so we can claim you as an alien,
as a figment of our imagination.
Wash up on earth’s shore
so we can claim you as a castaway
an unknown, scraggly and salt soaked.
Walk into town as a vagabond
so we can look and call authorities
to distance us.
Stand by the side of the road
so we can decide if your thumb up
is necessary for us to stop.
But please don’t come as a baby.
Don’t come and coo and cry
and take our breath away.
Don’t come as we did,
dependant and humble
and wrapped up tight.
Just don’t, don’t be so vulnerable
as a wonder from a womb
bathed in the liquid of humanity.
Don’t come as a child, please.
For then we would need to
hold you in our arms.
Don’t come as an infant
so innocent and small
for we might get emotional.
Don’t come as we once were
to become as we
should be.
Don’t come in this mysterious way
for then we might come
and adore You.
Gerald the Writer 
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