of experience
A flight of clouds
for your thoughts, child,
as you empty your hands to the wind,
seeking his current of healing.
Child of my clan,
I have fended the earth
wishing to shield you from pain
yet knowing there's no protection
from experience's snarl,
its bared fangs,
its hunger,
its cursed disappointment
when fed.
I will walk our path's shards,
leading, the harshness
of passage our measure,
your perspective hastened by time
as you yearn
to begin your first step.
Walk.
I will not stop you.
© Jonathan Bohrn (2000) |