born, birthed into a dark place
squalling, hot tears on a red face
dirt, unresisting cradle of sod
cobwebs, spiders spinning a cap of lace
helpless, laying where angels dare not trod
waiting, hoping for some act of God
flailing, weak and stubborn little mite
strange, wee ethereal creature most odd
squinting, young eyes searching for first sight
knowing, somewhere there must be light
hope, in unlikely foreign ground
strength, unreasonable will to fight
patient, lying in a mound
pensive, listening for some sound
mystery, to simply astound
unknown, undiscovered yet renowned
The Wisdom of Gavroche 