Empty Nest

I hurt my children daily--
Children, I say, children?
Young adults really..

Now that is silly

To not even see

The fine young adults

They have come to be!

They grew up and away

Without me.

They grew up and away
Despite me.
Even now, I hurt them daily,
Like a ritual unplanned

I plead for them to forgive

And to perhaps even understand...
True, they were so little
When I became a divorced mother.
True, we found comfort
In clinging to one another.
I sense my time is over now
And their need for me, not there.

What does a mother do

With all this extra care?

I consider that just maybe

They grew up fine because of me
And finding their new place is
 How it is meant to be.
New phases, change--that's life...
Moving onto that next stage.
My children are my babies--
I say, at ANY age!
But letting go oh letting go,
And finding my new place...
How odd to feel a smile
On my tired, sullen face--
As letting go, I realize, is
Just a new embrace!