Eventually, You Have To Let Them Go


We try to build them up, to make them strong,

give gifts of tiny truths, a whispered song

against the dark, a phrase not to forget;

it’s not so much to guard them with and yet


it’s all we have.  The sweat and tears and years

we’ve poured with open hands must morph to fears

we could not give enough.  The world will breach

each barrier we erect; all we can teach


is not enough.  All work of human hands

is flawed and broken from the start; the sands

will grind away, bring lovers cold, with hearts

unmoved, untouched.  My book, my child, bear parts


of me and though I know their paths unwind

beyond my hands, I ask the world, be kind.