Fly Boy (a poem about letting our children grow and go)

 

My baby flew away today with hardly a look back at me.

Motionless, I whispered “I love you.”

He waved and then abruptly he was gone.

I’m not ready! My heart heavy. I am not able

to see him there,

high

up

there

in the clouds

he is spinning golden dreams,

twirling with anticipation and joy,

a steady song on his lips.

And my boy flew straight up and away.

Gone.

The Fury of Parenthood (a poem)


The Fury of Parenthood

It should not be

in me.

The fury.  And in the end,

I think.

I am most angry

that I am all grown up.

When did that happen?

I cook, I clean, I care, I take on

every kind of responsibility.  Make

choices based on their survival and

their happiness.

Forgetting at times that

I am their whole world.

When did that happen?

And if I am not happy

neither are they.  Well enough,

isn’t good enough.  They need my joy.

And so, I remember

love is here.  Even in my fury.

I find I am Mother.

I am provider.  I am.

Written a few weeks ago, sitting in church.