Always outward over the next horizon,
Faithless children, bolder each growing day
after the first drunkenness of walking,
straying with thirsty eyes further away.
Home is the landing ground, the place of light–
food, rest and the curve of a loving hand,
no matter what gulfs of anger and hate were crossed,
when nightfall comes, the certain dry land.
Parents are lighthouse keepers, while the ships
take to their wilful travel far from the plan
given for navigation, yet each comes
unerring back until the child is man.
Then voyage has no return, the watch is waste,
parents no longer needed to warn of danger;
nor even for love, for when man takes a wife
his loyalty turns towards some unknown stranger.
Foolish the parents who think that a home can bind
forever the child with gifts it may possess,
who must to become a man his own home find,
and children to shelter in strength of his caress.
Source: “Borrow the Spring” by Amy McGrath
