Will I ever be good enough
To be able to keep a straight face
When a friend asks
Are they all normal
When they look at your class picture
Does my face contort at the sheer stupidity
Will I always wince
When you trot behind the next person
Wagging your tail, wanting acceptance
Shunned and spurned
Yet desperate to fit in
Will I always lash out
At you because I can’t bear it anymore
Your hurt, rejection and pain
I don’t know what hurts more
A child who died, or
A child whom the world kills every day
Will I be good enough
To draw lots of two children
Right in the middle of the bell curve
Righteously claiming my street smart daughter is gifted
Puffing when my tall testosterone son,
Cheats his way into the ranks
What do their wombs know
To have children who are gifted, and sensitive
It’s a curse, a blessing, a benediction
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