What I Would Tell Her

Hold on and don’t be afraid

Even when you’re old.

You’ll have so many dreams

Come true that the ones

That don’t won’t seem so scary.

There will be choices you make

That will make your life look

So vastly different than others around you.

And sometimes the differentness will

Sneak up and take you captive

When it wasn’t your choice at all.

But remember that word… captive.

Sometimes, even through your tears,

The differentness will be captivating

If you can let your eyes see

Through the saltwater lakes in your vision.

It won’t be so terrifying

If you’ll just keep your eyes open

And you won’t end up running away

Even though at first, you thought it was the end of everything.

Your heart will break and break again

And you will have to be resigned sometimes

To doing the right thing, even when it hurts.

But I promise, the right thing may hurt at first,

But just like a wilting bloom that had once been so beautiful

Is pruned from the plant,

So will those cuttings make way for the best.

And you will prevent

immediate satisfaction from harming the plant.

Your belief in your ugliness will

Make your other roots grow deep.

This belief will somehow manifest

itself so deeply that it will make you

Hunt down beauty relentlessly.

And by the time you realize the gift

That all the hunting gave you, it will almost be gone.

Don’t let it slip away, but grab it fiercely by the tale.

Grab the gift before it leaves you

And don’t let go.

Make that trail you cut in the woods sing.

Then the song will flitter through the branches

Leaving the trail behind and below…

The fox is always watching you from

Behind a tree.

He will run across your path

In the blink of an eye

And be gone.

Telling you a secret message…

You’ll know it when you see it.

The rabbit will live in your brush

And she will eat your blackberries at night

But she’ll let you catch a glimpse of her

When you need it most.

The white throated sparrow will sing

When you’re grieving

And remind you to look up

And remember the red king’s

Long, regal shanks and star-crowned head.

And the best friend with the white ruff

Who never left your bedside even in his feeble old age.

The wood thrush will tell you:

Go deep. Love summertime.

Don’t be afraid to be different.

Winter be damned. Live in summer

And treasure my song in your heart

Like a fire that warms you on the coldest days;

Like a sunrise that raises the sleeping blooms…