The Tangled Web
It’s hard to love a wild-woven child.
They stretch their world, then withdraw again.
All limbs and longing, reaching for space.
They push you wide, then wind you near.
You stand at the center, wedged in want,
and wonder when this became your world.
The room you once warmed now walls itself closed.
Light thins on their face, held back by curtains.
They speak in sighs, words edged with silence,
and walk the wider edge, watching you wait.
You circle their choices, ready to warn,
still bound by the work of wanting their good.
You stay in the web, waiting still.
Your watch outlasts words, worn thin.
Love holds one thread when all break.
So you remain here with what is.
by Sean Ewing
Editor’s Note: The melody of this poem’s form (accentual) emphasizes the emotional difficulty of parenthood/mentorship and the resilience of love.
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