Born to ask

I could have been a sailor;
could have climbed up my ship's mast;
could have learned the ropes,
reached up and touched the sky.
I might have been an architect,
a prostitute, or a chef;
a designing woman, in any case --
whatever that might mean.
But instead I'm standing here with you
and smiling into the wind:
it's not that those ambitions left;
it's just --they weren't meant for me.
I was born to fly across a page
in pursuit of elusive words.
I was born to remember
his dance on the mast
for the others who couldn't be there.
I was born to dance on the head of a pin
with those monkeys they're talking about.
And I was born to drag you here
and turn your face to the wind;
Was born to ask, as all mothers do,

"And you, my love:
what were YOU born to do?"

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