A Sense Of Time - Jon Jackson

[Lawrence Robinson]

A Sense Of Time

Years ago, a young doctor in training,
I did time, as we all did, learning obstetrics.
We would stay up late “catching babies,”
as they say, learning to do exams.

Clocks then weren’t as precise,
no two told the same time.
When “catching babies,” literally,
I carried that forward to writing my notes.

I clipped the umbilical, and passed
each newborn to a steady nurse. 
Then my job was the time of birth.
And I always rounded to the nearest five.

If you were born at 7:23, I wrote “7:25.”
If it was 10:22, I entered “10:20.”
How many innocent souls were so mislabeled?
Not a lot, I’m sure, though more than a few.

Years after, this brought deep dismay
to some dear friends. Wide eyed, they
stared in astrological horror!
I had just confessed to a heinous crime!

Was I, in fact, so callous, so blind?
What of the lives of little ones,
adrift forever, destination unknown?
How would they ever find their way?

But I got to see them breathe,
those water nymphs with eyes closed.
I saw the miracle. I watched them born,
and listened to their soulful cries.

Someday, perhaps, like me, they’ll
know not men, nor gods, nor a billion stars
can teach them what they already know,
if they just stop and listen.


	- Jon Jackson
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