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. © Jon Bohrn (2000) |
kid with shorts, Namibia 2000 © Chris Osler, griot photo |