Wednesday, January 9, 2013

On Children

I finally wrote my Christmas letter -- and chose this picture and a poem to go with it.

On Children by Kahlil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.


Mirka Breen said...

Beautiful poem, Vijaya. Kahlil Gibran got it right. Our kids are “borrowed” for us to take care of.
I’ll try to remember this next time one of them drives me up the wazoo. I’ll look upwards (or to the horizon) and ask if I can have some help *here*.

Beautiful photo too.

Bish Denham said...

Gibran was so special.

Vijaya said...

Mirka and Bish, this is my favorite poem and it's a reminder who I'm supposed to be -- a stable bow. Heaven help us!