Lyrics
It is eighteen years ago, almost to the day -
A sunny day with the leaves just turning (away),
The touch-line new-ruled - since I watched you play
Your first game of football, then, like a satellite
Wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away
Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos things set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be
The hesitant figure, edding away
Like winged seed loosened from its parent stem,
Has something I never quite grasp to convey
About nature's give-and-take - the small, the scorching
Ordeals which fire one's irresolute clay.
Behind a scatter of boys. I can see
You walking away from me towards the school
With the pathos things set free
Into a wilderness, the gait of one
Who finds no path where the path should be
I have had worse partings, but none that so
Gnaws at my mind still. Perhaps it is roughly
Saying what God alone could perfectly show -
How selfhood begins with a walking away,
And love is proved in the letting go.
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