A poem for my teenaged daughter
You are so much more
Than your reflection in the mirror,
My beautiful daughter, combing your golden hair,
Your value is so much greater
Than the validations of those
Who see your picture
As they scroll through their feed
Giving you the thumbs up or not.
Who are these strangers anyway?
We are here- on the other side of your closed door,
And we long for you.
We wish for your true undistracted presence,
- the you that you are.
Not the fantasy you on the screen.
I fear you have been spirited away
By the Elvin folk singing their tunes,
In another country, with other customs and strange beliefs.
You have made them your friends, your tribe
your compatriots in digital fantasy land.
But do they really care about you like we do?
Come back home to our hearth.
We miss you here, now with us.
You are more absent than present.
Fantasy takes you on it’s Pegasus Wings,
Over the clouds, where strange birds sing.
I miss you my beautiful daughter.
I miss your clear silver bell laughter,
Your songs, your crystal clear voice.
Where have you gone?
To a timeless land through the looking glass?
Who are you now?
Combing your hair with that faraway stare?
Time is passing.
We can’t take it back.
I feel so helpless- you are out of my reach
Down the rabbit hole in your phone,
Behind your slammed door.
Spinning your golden threads
-growing butterfly wings?
I want you to fly stretched out and glorious,
but I am afraid to loose you to the winds.
Too young, too fragile.
I want to hold on.