We talk to babies with a curling tongue
and rounded lips; we teach them fairy tales,
corral them in a chorus when they’re young
and try for something every parent fails
to get: the power to control their taste.
Asserting memory that’s not believed,
forbidding films and music, parents waste
authority on what can’t be achieved.

When I was young nobody said the truth
to me; adults refused to answer me
when I investigated God. Regret
was on the parents then, who traded youth
to fight (or bide) the world’s hostility.
I wanted answers then. I want them yet.