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)

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