Letting, Not Leaving

after living with Wales,
my adopted ‘mother’,
for two years

She has been
my mother
in the long womb ages
of the soul,

but even mothers
must be
let go

letting go does not always mean
leaving home

because sometimes the hardest thing to do is
stay with her through your darkness,
not knowing what choices lay in your hands,

and that is where I stand,
solitarily defined against the backdrop of safety,
a false hedge of protection
penetrated and
perpetrated by
the causality of growing up

growing up does not always mean
leaving home

but leaving behind your old perceptions
of dependence and desire,
as you look out the window and in one
stark and startling glance,
realize that the whole world beyond is
also your own.