Young & Adulting

These days burst with quiet successes,

no rounds of applause for being you and showing up.

 

These years,

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,

except yourself.

 

These days,

you wonder if people who’ve left your story

are still snugged by sudden memories of your quirks,

your laugh,

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.

 

These years,

please accept grace.

Please face yourself

With the bravery of an honest gaze.

You are here,

growing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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