The wounded Child

The Wounded Child

Oh, fly my young ones

From thy nest.

Fly my young ones

From the breast.

Thy mothers arms

Or fathers chest.

Without love

And alone you

Stand remote

Without the

Parental love

To out

The troubles, woes

Which impede thy growth.

For fears to hide

Or lurk remote.

Hiding in the crevices

Of thy mind.

A padlock on your

Heart.

So go and find your key

Unlock the lock

Upon thy heart.

Set free the dove

And aloft divine

Set free your troubled

Brow my son.

Once more be

Held upon

Natures wings divine.