‘Letters to younger self’
chapters of yore play in the theatre tonight
and twenty three don’t frighten my sight
there’s satisfaction on a twelve year old’s face
to have a seat at the dining table, regardless and always
fifteen smiles down at deep friendships
and soulmates made on ephemeral nights
she holds my hand and whispers you’re fine.
eighteen’ eyes light up at the femininity
so sure of this brave vulnerability
but nineteen holds hands unsure of waves
of longing and ends, so I squeeze it brief
she’ll find relief in goodbyes
to twenty one, I gratefully yield
while drowning in shame and grief
I tell her this pain will fade
we’ll find strength in our primal and naked self
twenty two has found peace
meditation, herbs, and paradigm
over desperate dreams and there’s
solitude, that we have all fallen in love with.