He’s always loved with an open heart, generous in his expression of affection, uninhibited, unfettered. I envy him his nonchalance. The casual ease with which he throws his arms around me, without hesitation, and tells me that he loves me, irrespective of where we are or who is watching. I wonder how this child, raised by me, could be so light in heart, so free in spirit, so free of my shackles. I fear that life will slowly get to him, and this weightlessness will be lost, becoming just wistful memories in the mind of a fading woman. How do I protect him from this acerbic world? My heart wants to ensconce him within its maternal walls. My mind warns, that my bulwark will only suffocate, snuffing out the sacred in him well before his time. I must let him leap, fly, fall, rise.
But slowly, subtly, steadily, his embrace is wearing down my armour, bringing down my walls. And I fear. No longer for him, for I see the strong and confident young man before me. I fear for myself. Can I be brave enough to watch him take the leap, selfless enough to let him fly, strong enough to nurse his fall, resolute enough to allow him space to rise?
Will I be generous with my love?


A Mother’s Fear

Children in the playground
Children in the park
Never leave a child alone
To wander in the dark

The world is full of demons
Some real some make believe
That wear the cloak of decency
Like a weapon to deceive

Predators that stalk the land
Their hearts and souls defiled
To destroy the face of innocence
Of one that is a child.
– Graham Jones


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