These days burst with quiet successes,
no rounds of applause for being you and showing up.
you search for things you don’t always know how to name.
You reach for the fame of being known by people who will see you,
sliver by sliver until you’re bare,
bare being, bare heart, bare scars,
Bearing imperfections that are only human.
You crave to be known by others who won’t dispose of you
When your trash accumulates,
Who won’t reject you when you have nothing to give,
you wonder if people who’ve left your story
are still snugged by sudden memories of your quirks,
your face when you confidently sang off-key.
You hope that you’re thought of,
even on silent nights
when your phone is inactive,
awakened only by anxious taps.
You pray that one day,
you will care more
about being remembered
for the thickness of your love
than the thinness of others’ opinions.
In these years,
some moments will be surprise parties,
and some occasions will hurt
like private funerals.
You’ll learn to celebrate yourself.
You’ll grieve failures and disappointments
on your own timeline.
please accept grace.
Please face yourself
With the bravery of an honest gaze.
You are here,