For my son

All I want is for you
to be free regardless of
the countless ribbons
attached to our days

The clasp of destiny might dent
certain pages; there might be
the odd salt caught
in the apostrophes of your lips

But don't let the rain stop you
From sailing. Don't let the end
of the day halt all your dreaming

Open arms might
not always mean embracing
but grant all empty spaces
a chance of receiving

If not a gift then another

As welcoming as you'll be
to the years and the many
grains of dust pelting the trail
that cut through the sandstorm

With a smile as sharp as a knife

And before the day drapes
its light into blue
another plunge into the water
and the tides shall tend the fire within you