I’m thinking about journeys tonight, as I get ready for a drive to Yellowstone. And I’m thinking about the journeys we take in our relationships. Sometimes, as a parent, my journey has been about saying good-bye and allowing for the journey of one of my children. I ran across this poem as I was planning a lesson on journeys. I wrote it in 2008, but tonight it seems especially applicable.


You beg for distance,
not angry, but earnest
like a cypress longing for a different river.
When you were small,
we made coracles from words.
Now you ride rapids in a cockleshell,
which carries you, rootless, out to sea.
No book nor prayer charts a map
to the empty horizon.
My troubadour,
My brown-eyed bird.
Where can I go

With my honey faith?

©2008-2011 Katherine Grace Bond

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