If ever there was a day when you might
Need me, it may be now. If ever there was a day
You might feel shut in a room with locked doors
Staring down at you expectantly, it may be now.
So, please, pick up this paper. Take a few
Unsettling heartbeats to cast your eyes
And drink what I can pour from my days. Your Days.

I don’t know what forest you are walking through.
Nor what hands hold yours, but I do know that
The forest is full of unknowns. It can be cold at night
When silence falls. Roots too easily hidden
By a gentle carpet of moss can reach up
And take you down to the bed of pine needles
Beneath your feet.

So, if someone asks you why you feel frightened
Of where you walk, or why you feel exposed
Tell them: Because we are in a forest.
It grew without any thought of me, without
Any regard for a visitor. The trees need an anchor
While the animals need a place to call home.
The ferns and knotwood need sunlight
Of which they will always have. Should
I walk as if the forest needs me?

You are strong. The meadows and thickets
Surrounding you are new because you
Are new. You came from marble halls and wooden
Floors and carpet laid bare. And you walked.
To explore is to be uncomfortable, and sometimes
Loneliness is your other hand. Good and bad,
Full and empty, you will survive if you let yourself
Survive. There is no one like you, and to deprive
The world of such a unique creature would
Do her a disservice. You are valued, not in the eyes
Of today’s friend or tomorrow’s decision maker
But in your choices. Your choices of how you say
Hello to those who struggle more than you. Who
Have less than you. How do you shake the hand
Of hatred, How do you shake the hand of Love?

Wherever you walk, wherever you stand, make it known
Love will start, and end, with you.