An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse
I’m somebody’s godparent, somehow –
She asked me herself, and I couldn’t say no.
In church, I managed to not say the vow
As I hung at the back while she went with the flow.
Nine years of age, she is: older than most,
But she needed a place in a high-flying school
So Sunday-on-Sunday, her folks take the host –
Though they take it in turns, diff’rent weeks, as a rule.
Now, I don’t believe, and I don’t know if she does –
And as for the others that circled the font,
Perhaps it’s the thought that these children may need us
That brought us to church for this wary détente.
So yes, I’ll be here if she needs my advice,
Or a candle to light a dark night of her soul,
And help her to see that her doubts are the price
Of her learning from teachers instead of a scroll.
I hope that the vicar, when splashing her brow,
Diluted her faith in the Word and the Trance.
And left her beguiled by the magic of now,
And the spirit of why, and the wonder of chance.
So I’m a godparent. I guess, come what may,
I promised to help her to blossom and glow.
I’m neither a god nor a parent, but hey-
She asked me herself, and I couldn’t say no.
