I woke up this morning.
And after work, and hurt,
and trying, so hard.
I finally, when I am at best,
Have reached, barely…
I don’t want to call it a precipice.
It is so much more like a deep valley.
I can reach out
and touch both walls with my fingertips when I stretch.
Walls that are damp with rainwater and soft with moss.
The breeze motivates the ferns springing up by my feet to carress my calves.
Here I am at last,
Ready to say the things that I am just beginning
To know how to mean.
Those stupid birds have it all so wrong.
I don’t want you to leave this nest and soar.
I wish you a most gloriuous fall!
I spent so long wanting for you to never hurt.
But this life is a bit of a multiple choice test.
And escaping pain is not an option.
So instead, my wish is that your pain is a reliable guide.
When you spread your wings, and you leap,
When you are lying in the dirt and the hurt.
I hope that your lovliness,
All the best parts of you…
I hope that they speed your recovery.
All of your mediocrities,
All the ways you are competent enough.
All those aspects of you which are fair.
They will be taken by life, and sorted.
Some will emerge as greatnesses.
And others will be eroded by time and foolish decisions.
You will walk, sometimes, on those bird-feet not meant for walking far.
You will try and fly, and sometimes, those wings won’t work.
You will, I expect, end up here, with me.
In a valley,
There is fresh water here.
There is a breeze that will lift the sweat from your brow.