They, are not your possession
to mold
They, are from you
but not, of you

Their shoulders
don’t carry your sins

Their feet don’t carry
your legacy

Their eyes chart their own paths
between the night stars

Their hearts soar through clouds
of their own shaping

They, are not chained
by blood or barbed words
They, are free to unfold
where your eyes no longer see
heart no longer beat to
blood that no longer
sear with a longing so brazen as Life

You no longer wish to Sea, Captor
who anchors his sinking ship
on tiny ankles.

.
.
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