“There is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children. There is no duty more important than ensuring that their rights are respected, that their welfare is protected, that their lives are free from fear and want and that they can grow up in peace.” ~ Kofi Annan

“There is no tr…

“If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years, the sterile preoccupation with things artificial, the alienation from the sources of our strength.” ~ Rachel Carson

“If I had influence wit…

On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

~~ Kahlil Gibran ~~

A Daughter’s Poem

The Ladybug and the Ant

Was it the rays and glory from the halo that shone off the angels when I looked through your eyes that mid morning?

Echoes from the halls, but yet in the embrace of my arms, so quiet, with the look of content and glowing from knowing.

This was your place, from which you will take root and bloom. No other saw, but you raised your head, and seeped through my soul, as I saw the rarest of all two.

It was like when you stumble upon these rigid rocks, and realize deep inside it’s only for you, it would sparkle and shine, the rarest of hue.

To first grasp your head, it felt like a million downy feathers bundled in one. So gentle was your presence, it would make me from that second change.

I was like the oyster that would hold and embrace its pearl deep within, and keep it safe from harm. It would try this for so long, and it would not exchange.

This feeling for no other, your fingers, how they would drown my finger in emotion as it sought to do, with you wrapped around like a yellow ribbon on that old oak tree.

It is so hard to speak of how you came here, how it was possible to make such a being, a new petal on that rose bud, and you came to be.

It seems it was the day before when this all was true. Now I see you play in the gold and burgundy fall, with that smile that makes me weak, my little mister.

I would love to say you were the only thing that climbed my ivy filled fence, but you were just as equal, and yet so far, as the day I met your sister.

Oh, my little blue morning orchid that came to my life. Her eyes were not as loud, silent, yet she knew this was home, like a baby deer drinking in the forest down upon the silvered creek.

She was a girl of any, her hair as soft as the first plucked wish weeds. To know what life was before her, was far too bleak.

Her toes were as small as the minced grains of stones you find in the coral hiding of the beaches of riddance.

She was beyond what I made her up to be. It was like when you would see a red robin fluff its breast up in all its brilliance.

It knew it was radiant and bright, and my love for her grew with every sight.

Her sweetness set you on a trail of a truffle chocolate turbulent delight.

When I would see her, and light stands still, I would lean into those timber bridged eyes.

My son, as the curious ant leaving the pack, and my daughter, as the ladybug resting on the grass blade.

Without these two, I would be nothing. It would come to no surprise, I would most likely shrivel to my demise.

~~ Janie Welsh ~~