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Monday, April 18, 2011

On that limbo of a mother whose last child is leaving the nest

He's leaving, or, more
accurately, he
has already left.
After so many years,
his study finished,
he left his notes as though
I'd read or play them,
hear ostinatos
under the silent
symphony he means
I must learn to play.
Gone without the stuffed toys
he maintained until
college.  Gone after
bright shiny new toys,
new friends, new pursuits,
saving precious few. 
Hardly seeing how,
I lean on whom I trust.
Yes.  Pillar and cloud.
Led... by a pillar...
of fire or of cloud..
Thank you, Lord, for these.

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