the graduate

Your mortar board sits waiting;
Gown still creased, in folds.
Those symbols of accomplishment, of transition
That walk I thought you’d be taking?
Across that long, long stage
And into adulthood
Into the future
Into yourself.
Not taken.
I worry.
Without these steps, will you stumble?
Without this passage, does progress slow?
Without that diploma, what will become of you?
I pray.
This, my child, is just a temporary block.
Tomorrow and tomorrow still, you will be.
I expect no less than amazing news.
You’ll become.
You are.

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