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…