My Son, My Pride…

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Are children bound by their destiny to fulfill their parent’s dreams? A tacit token of gratitude? Recently, I came across a small text in German by Khalil Gibran, which forced me to think this over.

Here’s a translation of the text

Your children are not your children. They come through you, but not for you. And although they live with you, they don’t belong to us.

You can give them your love but not your thinking, because they have their own thinking.

You can have them in your house- their body, not their souls.

Their souls lie in their houses of tomorrow, where you can’t step in, not once in their dreams.

You can try to be like them. But don’t try to make them like you.

As I mused over these beautiful words, this poem took birth in me…

My Son, My Pride

It’s another spring again this year

With my life in my hands

And his in his

We walk together

Though I give him a shove

Every now and then

And sometimes I forget

As he wheels ahead of me

And stares back for a word

Which is all I can give

I remind myself

Which is all he needs

To treasure the thread

To remember me?

He won’t live my dreams

He won’t be my self

With only my eyes

To fall and hurt

Is our own unfolding

I would watch over him

But never to advise

Never to steal a decision

Never to guide the course

Neither to hold expectations

Nor to identify

He’s not mine

Only through mine

He’s a child of the universe

- Sunanda Garg