I love you,
your shaggy
Beatles haircut,
Greenday t-shirts,
bell bottoms,
platform Sketchers,
the way your
violin sings
and stirs others
to do something
about something
that matters.
Feeling unloved,
unseen,
unimportant,
misunderstood,
abandoned,
as if nobody cares
or gets it,
does not mean
there is anything
wrong with you.
You are beautiful.
You are handsome.
You are needed.
You are wanted.
You deserve love,
and one day,
you will know
people who
choose you,
again and again
and again.
One day,
your egg cracks.
You discover
rainbows
beyond binaries,
love
beyond gender,
and safety
in family.
A spouse,
three beautiful
queer children,
a big fluffy
service dog,
three cats,
a country house,
a big garden.
Your children
come out young,
knowing you always
have their back.
And then you
discover what
it means
to show up
for yourself.
You shave
your head,
dye your hair
every color
of the rainbow,
ink your skin,
and let the outside
match the inside,
finally arriving
at who you’ve
always been.
You leave church,
toxic rules, and
harsh judgment
that shamed you
into fear
and silence.
You join
a witch circle,
return to
abandoned
rituals,
once forbidden
by mother,
when church
was the price
for housing.
You find
your voice,
think for yourself,
and finally
rediscover writing.
Two books,
published,
birth faith in
your own mind,
thoughts creating
needed change.
But before any of this,
dear one,
know this truth:
You were
already loved,
already whole,
already a gift,
already created
to make a difference,
from the very day
you were born.
