Borrowed Light- A Poem by Wendi Kehn

A reflection on parenthood, time, and the story behind it

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Wendi Kehn/Hellbloom Haven

Feb 16, 2026

Borrowed Light

Children are not ours to keep,
though fiercely we may try.
They enter small, with open hands,
and eyes that hold the sky.

They come like gifts we did not earn,
like grace we didn’t plan,
and place their fragile trust inside
the shelter of our hands.

They fill our days with scattered toys,
with questions, tears, and sound,
and slowly stretch our patient hearts
until they grow more round.

They teach us how to kneel again,
to soften and to see
that love is not possession,
it is quiet tending, free.

They borrow space within our homes,
within our arms, our bed,
then inch by inch they grow beyond
the boundaries we’ve led.

The hands that once reached up for ours
will one day reach away.
The voice that called us everything
will find its separate way.

And though we know from the very start
they’re only passing through,
we love them like forever
because that’s what parents do.

Time does not ask permission.
It does not slow its climb.
It turns our babies into wings
right in front of time.

So hold them in their smallness.
Stand steady while they grow.
They are blessings on loan to us,
and one day, we let go.

But what a sacred honor
to guide them while they’re near,
to witness who they’re becoming
year by tender year.

They are not ours to own or keep.
They are not ours to bind.
They are entrusted to our love
for just a little time.

Behind the Poem

This poem was written as a reminder to myself as much as anyone else.

Parenting can feel loud, repetitive, exhausting, and ordinary all at once. It’s easy to get caught in the logistics, the schedules, the laundry, the reminders, the mess, and forget that what we’re living is something sacred.

Children are a paradox. They stretch us and soften us at the same time. They test our patience and expand our capacity for love in ways we didn’t know were possible. And while they are deeply ours in one sense, they are also never truly ours to keep.

That truth can feel both beautiful and heartbreaking.

We are entrusted with them for a season. We guide, nurture, protect, and love them, knowing that the goal is not dependence, but independence. Not possession, but release.

There is something holy about loving someone you know will one day walk away into their own life.

Writing this poem reminded me that even the ordinary days are part of something extraordinary. The years feel long, but they are short. The little hands won’t always reach up for ours. The voice that calls from the other room won’t always need us in the same way.

This piece is my attempt to slow time down for just a moment, to notice the gift inside the responsibility, the blessing inside the noise, and the temporary nature of something that feels so permanent while we’re in it.

If you’re in the thick of it right now, tired, overwhelmed, stretched, I hope this poem gently reminds you that what feels heavy today may one day feel holy in hindsight.

We don’t get to keep them forever.

But what a gift it is to love them while we can.

If this poem resonated with you, you can find more reflections like this inside the Poetry Portal

If something here resonated with you, you may also want to explore the Hellbloom Haven Trauma Portal, a free educational resource designed to help people better understand trauma, how it affects us, and tools that support healing and self-awareness.

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