This resonates deeply for me. My three children never felt like "mine", it was more like I was holding the tail of a kite with each of them, running along as they soaked me in their passions for art, music, and aviation, none of which I knew firsthand before my indoctrination by parenthood.
Thanks for sharing that, Susan. I love that poem--such a beautiful reminder that we, as parents, must accept the individuality of our children, allow them to grow and become who they are meant to be, and to be there to support them along the way. My mother certainly taught me this by example, and I've tried to carry that torch forward with my kids.
Susan I’ve been wondering if we should have “introvert” schools for kids where they feel accepted being quiet and they can explore their quiet world. My friend’s daughter is very “quiet” in a public school and she was told by the teacher that she better find a private school for her daughter because her daughter doesn’t “fit in”. I don’t know if it’s a “private” vs “public” school issue, but the social expectation that all kids should be participating in all different kinds of extroverted activities. I feel sad to hear that because I know her daughter, a very sweet little girl who is just “quiet”. Introvert kids need support to be themselves and guided how to explore the world in their “quiet” way.
Oh I know...this is SUCH an issue. I don't know that the answer is schools just for introverts because many introverts have lots of extrovert friends and vice versa - I think there's a real attraction. I think the answer is greater awareness...but that's a tall order, I know.
I love this so much. I first heard this concept from a dear friend of mine 20 years ago when my children were little. It was such a huge “aha” to me because it definitely was not the way I was raised. It changed my whole perspective and the way I worked with my kids going forward. I have always been so grateful to that friend and loved seeing this poem.
I have a large photo of my children, at that time age 4, and twins age 6 where they are running away on a forest trail near our house - their little sundresses waving, hair up in the air as they run full speed, my son catching up, their faces not visible, only their backs as they run. The moment I saw that picture in the photographer's gallery I knew I needed it and that voice inside said "they were never mine." It’s an image I pass several times a day and it reminds me time and time again, it's a bittersweet ache I’ve journaled about …
As much as I’ve wanted to claim you
I knew you were never mine.
I’d hold you up for all to see - kiss your tiny fingers, and toes - “these are my babies” I’d say.
"My babies", before anyone else believed me.
"My babies", a whispered dream, of a single, young woman.
"My babies", I told your father - the first evening as a family.
Try as I may to fool myself, I am no fool.
You are as much your own, as you are never mine.
And yet “Those are my babies” I’ll say as you run your own way in this world
I lost my mother on Christmas day. She didn't understand me at times. I have thought about our relationship over and over. I Just had a conversation with a dear friend about letting go and trying not to control. I want so much for my adult daughters in their personal lives. I want also to keep our communication open. This poem hit the nail on the head today. Thank you.
I love Gibran's work. And yet, for most of us who have not reached the lofty ideal he talks about, there is grief in seeing our children grow. And I felt this poem spoke so beautifully about that grief:
Walking Away
by C Day-Lewis
It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day –
A sunny day with leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new-ruled – since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away
Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.
That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature’s give-and-take – the small, the scorching
I first read this poem when I was a teen and itching to be one of those arrows who was flying free. I read it again as a young mom and also as an emptying the nest mom. So much knowledge, truth and beauty there. I'm grateful that all 5 of my arrows have flown on and several are now starting their own process of parenthood. I'll share this poem with each of them.
Thank you for sharing. That is beautiful! I've loved Gibran's poem since I was a teen and I've loved Sweet Honey since I was a young mom. Experiencing both together is wonderful!
This resonates strongly with me. I became an empty nester at 36 years old when my son decided to go live with his father. He was 15, almost 16 at the time and so I really couldn’t force him to stay. It was a not the best choice, but it was his choice. He had to learn for himself why I couldn’t help his father with his alcoholism and gambling. It was heartbreaking and we were estranged for some years but eventually he wanted to be with me again. We now see each other regularly and he understands the impact intergenerational trauma. Watching your child make mistakes or fall for lies is so hard but it is their life to fully experience.
Such a powerful short poem. Many here have noted how its meaning opens in new ways as we live out our adult lives. "You are the bows from which your children/ as living arrows are sent forth."
Gibran's ON CHILDREN was first read TO me, by my mother sixty-some years ago. At age 17-18, I was dithering about applying to an overseas college for the final year of Canadian high school. While Mum listened closely to each draft of my app-submission letter (about myself), she made NO suggestions. She went right on hand-drying the dishes while she tuned in. If I asked her opinion, she gently reminded me, 'What you say is up to you, Darling. That's what they want.'
My watershed overseas year in Swizerland and other European nations opened plenty of portals in this passionate yet cautious teenage girl/woman. It gave me fine learning, and also -- most vitally -- much needed courage and self-confidence to balance the innate reactivity of real introversion (and its protective bravado!).
A decade later, I was raising my own two children. The mode now tagged 'helicoptering' felt wrong-headed to me, even when I became a widowed young mom. My less bossy parenting drew some askance judgements, but I couldn't do otherwise. And, to my own shock, both my kids (now 50-ish) have taken the trouble to thank me a time or two for the respect tendered to their respective off-beat life-trajectories. Seems even certain parental flaws factored in!
Key credit goes to Kahlil Gibran and my wise Mum for striking a most resonant chord of supporting vs controlling. Its humane harmony still blesses us in our family relationships -- peaceable candour is supple enough to get us through the tough bits, as I now can see -- with wonder and gratitude for a powerful poem that opens eyes and hearts so well.
This resonates deeply for me. My three children never felt like "mine", it was more like I was holding the tail of a kite with each of them, running along as they soaked me in their passions for art, music, and aviation, none of which I knew firsthand before my indoctrination by parenthood.
This is Substacker Maggie Delaney-Potthoff singing the poem just beautifully: https://open.substack.com/pub/maggiedelaneypotthoff/p/oops-correction-of-todays-gift-song?r=ej3bv&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=false
Beautiful - so much wisdom in such simple words !
I’ve been through a long period of letting go and this poem has been my companion and reminder.
What I noticed is that the impulse is not even. I found I was more attached to the child of one and more excited for the growing wings of the other.
Thanks for sharing that, Susan. I love that poem--such a beautiful reminder that we, as parents, must accept the individuality of our children, allow them to grow and become who they are meant to be, and to be there to support them along the way. My mother certainly taught me this by example, and I've tried to carry that torch forward with my kids.
Susan I’ve been wondering if we should have “introvert” schools for kids where they feel accepted being quiet and they can explore their quiet world. My friend’s daughter is very “quiet” in a public school and she was told by the teacher that she better find a private school for her daughter because her daughter doesn’t “fit in”. I don’t know if it’s a “private” vs “public” school issue, but the social expectation that all kids should be participating in all different kinds of extroverted activities. I feel sad to hear that because I know her daughter, a very sweet little girl who is just “quiet”. Introvert kids need support to be themselves and guided how to explore the world in their “quiet” way.
Oh I know...this is SUCH an issue. I don't know that the answer is schools just for introverts because many introverts have lots of extrovert friends and vice versa - I think there's a real attraction. I think the answer is greater awareness...but that's a tall order, I know.
I love this so much. I first heard this concept from a dear friend of mine 20 years ago when my children were little. It was such a huge “aha” to me because it definitely was not the way I was raised. It changed my whole perspective and the way I worked with my kids going forward. I have always been so grateful to that friend and loved seeing this poem.
I have a large photo of my children, at that time age 4, and twins age 6 where they are running away on a forest trail near our house - their little sundresses waving, hair up in the air as they run full speed, my son catching up, their faces not visible, only their backs as they run. The moment I saw that picture in the photographer's gallery I knew I needed it and that voice inside said "they were never mine." It’s an image I pass several times a day and it reminds me time and time again, it's a bittersweet ache I’ve journaled about …
As much as I’ve wanted to claim you
I knew you were never mine.
I’d hold you up for all to see - kiss your tiny fingers, and toes - “these are my babies” I’d say.
"My babies", before anyone else believed me.
"My babies", a whispered dream, of a single, young woman.
"My babies", I told your father - the first evening as a family.
Try as I may to fool myself, I am no fool.
You are as much your own, as you are never mine.
And yet “Those are my babies” I’ll say as you run your own way in this world
Until forever.
Decided to share the picture in my own post - https://open.substack.com/pub/feelwriterepeat/p/never-mine?r=48h6u3&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true
I lost my mother on Christmas day. She didn't understand me at times. I have thought about our relationship over and over. I Just had a conversation with a dear friend about letting go and trying not to control. I want so much for my adult daughters in their personal lives. I want also to keep our communication open. This poem hit the nail on the head today. Thank you.
I love Gibran's work. And yet, for most of us who have not reached the lofty ideal he talks about, there is grief in seeing our children grow. And I felt this poem spoke so beautifully about that grief:
Walking Away
by C Day-Lewis
It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day –
A sunny day with leaves just turning,
The touch-lines new-ruled – since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away
Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos of a half-fledged thing set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be.
That hesitant figure, eddying away
Like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature’s give-and-take – the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one’s irresolute clay.
I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show –
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go.
I first read this poem when I was a teen and itching to be one of those arrows who was flying free. I read it again as a young mom and also as an emptying the nest mom. So much knowledge, truth and beauty there. I'm grateful that all 5 of my arrows have flown on and several are now starting their own process of parenthood. I'll share this poem with each of them.
I do love this poem. Thanks so much for sharing. Your timing is impeccable.
I love this poem. I didn’t realize it was a poem but I know the words well as it is a song I listen to regularly. https://open.spotify.com/track/7IZgCi2qirqoRRRLP7fMiQ?si=2CAvQXZZSxCZNu5ZpfhpLw
Thanks for sharing this - lovely to hear it as a song too
There’s a gorgeous Sweet Honey in the Rock musical version of this poem, which has been such inspiration for me even before I became a parent:
https://youtu.be/kYAkcL36aCE?si=xkHKYbb0qR_f4Nkg
Gorgeous! Thank you for sharing Laurie Ann!
Thank you for sharing. That is beautiful! I've loved Gibran's poem since I was a teen and I've loved Sweet Honey since I was a young mom. Experiencing both together is wonderful!
Such beautiful wisdom.
My late Mother was a lover of Gibran’s work… this poem has been part of my journey for almost 50 years. Thank-you for sharing Susan
This resonates strongly with me. I became an empty nester at 36 years old when my son decided to go live with his father. He was 15, almost 16 at the time and so I really couldn’t force him to stay. It was a not the best choice, but it was his choice. He had to learn for himself why I couldn’t help his father with his alcoholism and gambling. It was heartbreaking and we were estranged for some years but eventually he wanted to be with me again. We now see each other regularly and he understands the impact intergenerational trauma. Watching your child make mistakes or fall for lies is so hard but it is their life to fully experience.
Such a powerful short poem. Many here have noted how its meaning opens in new ways as we live out our adult lives. "You are the bows from which your children/ as living arrows are sent forth."
Gibran's ON CHILDREN was first read TO me, by my mother sixty-some years ago. At age 17-18, I was dithering about applying to an overseas college for the final year of Canadian high school. While Mum listened closely to each draft of my app-submission letter (about myself), she made NO suggestions. She went right on hand-drying the dishes while she tuned in. If I asked her opinion, she gently reminded me, 'What you say is up to you, Darling. That's what they want.'
My watershed overseas year in Swizerland and other European nations opened plenty of portals in this passionate yet cautious teenage girl/woman. It gave me fine learning, and also -- most vitally -- much needed courage and self-confidence to balance the innate reactivity of real introversion (and its protective bravado!).
A decade later, I was raising my own two children. The mode now tagged 'helicoptering' felt wrong-headed to me, even when I became a widowed young mom. My less bossy parenting drew some askance judgements, but I couldn't do otherwise. And, to my own shock, both my kids (now 50-ish) have taken the trouble to thank me a time or two for the respect tendered to their respective off-beat life-trajectories. Seems even certain parental flaws factored in!
Key credit goes to Kahlil Gibran and my wise Mum for striking a most resonant chord of supporting vs controlling. Its humane harmony still blesses us in our family relationships -- peaceable candour is supple enough to get us through the tough bits, as I now can see -- with wonder and gratitude for a powerful poem that opens eyes and hearts so well.