Between firmness
Of too demanding parents
And harshness
Of the teaching tyrants,
Between those with a creative ring
And those condescending,
Between one parent’s protective pod
And another’s disciplining nod,
Between one’s vindictive rod
And sympathetic—now so odd,
A dividing line
Ever so fine,
Has to be one day drawn—
Made of, may be, a kindly frown,
A line that many know is there
At the end of a long, long tether.
For, youth blossoms in freedom,
We know that as we aught,
And yet, what we do not—
Not in an un-ruled kingdom.
And while we search for this land,
Perhaps on the edge, land’s end,
Worse still, while we debate,
The youth suffers her worse fate.
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-Reflections | 04.02.08 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem