Who Caught You When You Fell

Thank God you can't recall your mother forcing you bloodied
from her womb, slipping through the doctor's gloved fingers
and landing headfirst on the delivery room's tile. Otherwise
you'd know that women don't drop babies, doctors do.
You don't remember how hard it was, do you--
pushing against the earth to stand erect that first time,
bare-bottomed and wide-eyed on fat, wobbly legs?
Maybe your mother or father cradled the air beside you
like watchful brackets, but no, you probably were one
of those kids who wailed and screamed for absent parents
each time the linoleum hit that astonished face of yours.
It must have been scary growing up alone with no one
to get your back when bullies made the playground
a killing zone for their sport and you became the football,
the punching bag, the thing curled into a ball and kicked.
But let's get real. You wouldn't know about such things.
The truth is you grew up in a nice home, a neighborhood
where kids never die of crossfire from slow-moving cars.
And your dad, your uncle or your buddy helped you get
that first job at a time when there were jobs, and all because
you're so special and self-sufficient, so strong and so wise.
You worked hard and actually believe that everything you own
is yours because it's your God-given, constitutional right
to have more than the next guy, a job better than they have.
You're worth a lot, and they got what they deserved.
That postman who delivers your mail, that cop who risks his life
keeping you safe, that road crew who makes driving possible,
that lady who teaches your kids how to read and write, that food
you eat because some inspector made sure it doesn't poison you,
that union guy waiting for a job he'll pay taxes on and yes, that crippled guy
who contributes nothing to society but a humble lesson in fate--
you don't need any of them. Because that bump on your head
made you think you're Superman, soaring alone with no memory of
who caught you when you fell.