Weaned from my shadow not my sustenance
Who knows when this uncertain time if ever
till death should cut the final grudging link
that sews us two uneasily together.
Though you soon live without the nourishment
that tied us first so neither could be parted,
how many years you need the clothes I give
to wrap with words your nakedness when started.
Some grow too small, and some no longer fit
as you draw level with me, reach my height;
or, shaking off all I gave you to wear as truth,
step from these poor rags I chose as right.
However your faith wears thin in the shape of my wisdom
as you break from the careful chrysalis I wound,
some thread of me will cling to your new habit
as you take your separate track on alien ground.
Source: “Family, My Home” by Amy McGrath
