Ode to Andrew Wakefield

I applaud, bow, curtsey and what else?
Do somersaults before you, Doctor Wakefield.
I don’t receive four hundred thousand dollars for this,
Nor in fact (honest and open one) a single dollar.
Maybe cents... which I put for scaly dragons to guard -
For your benefit.
I adore you merely for adoration’s sake.
We had lived in a nightmare.
Only one inch of distance between the indigo paradise
And a happy parent.
Only one inch... then something goes excruciatingly wrong
And the happy parent-plus-child symbiosis boat
Sinks like lead without reaching the haven.
Catastrophes cannot be small.
Each feels like the “Titanic”
But without a James Cameron
To make it an easily forgettable show.
Things stood pitiably so before Your arrival.
But then you came and said:
“Folks, be quiet,
For - firstly -
You would not, I hope,
Fuss over the mere constipation?
The autism is not a blank windowless wall
As it may seem in your bad hours.
Don’t hit your heads against walls
Trying to light in another’s head
A spark at least - a tiny strip of the way you perceive this world.
This is not metaphysical.
Merely intestinal.
Those intestinal disorders
Which produce wrong opinions
And pessimistic philosophies...
Man ist was man isst,
Man waechst wie man ist vaxxed.
This brings us to the second point -
The villain.
If you’re religious
Don’t question a godhead
Which moulds some children
Being crazy or drunken or just careless -
Bonus dormitat Homerus.
God’s plans are always kind and thoughtful
But for the vaccine which stands in their way.
Being kicked out of the paradise
Is not so nasty
If you know whom to blame.
The Bible was allegorical
With its serpent narrative;
Ancient Hebrew just had not means
To spell it right:
MMR vaccine”.
Doctor Wakefield, we are your soldiers!
We stand in a row before you
Upright to the envy of plumb-lines.
Our faces are turned
In the revealing direction
Of your pointing finger.
Our hands have gripped fiercely our rifles.
We finally know
Where the foe is.