Bend, don’t break.
Fly, don’t fall.
Hope, don’t give up.
But, if you do…. The broken can be put back together. The fallen can rise, and hopeless can learn to dream.
Because I see you.
I hear you, as your heart it breaks. I see the pain, the frustration, the anger. I listen when no one else does. I watch when you don’t think I am. I hurt for you. I hurt to see you hurt.
There was a time, when you were small, and loving arms held you. Maybe not for long, but for a moment. A nurse, a midwife, a mother. Someone who saw you as you were perfect; perfect and untainted by this life.
Just as you were meant to be.
And then you grew up and things changed. Life reaped its ugly toil on your childlike heart and it began to harden. Bit by bit, piece by piece, until suddenly, you no longer recognised who you were. You no longer looked like who you were meant to be. And you did not understand who the stranger in the mirror was, or how he got to be here.
How she got to be you.
You made a choice.
You suffered it’s consequence.
You lost a little more.
You remained half of who you were, but you do not know how you did.
And you struggle on.
Bending. Swaying. Broken. Bleeding. Fighting tooth and nail, every day, for some semblance of meaning. For some purpose or future.
Fighting the futility.
Fighting for hope.
So far from that little child once cradled in their arms. So far from love.
But I see you.
Not as you are, or once were, but who you could become.
I see you. Bold and beautiful and standing tall.
I see you loved. Held in eternal arms that know no bounds. Arms that flung the stars into space. Arms that won’t let go.
Arms that can’t let go.
I see you. Full of hope.
And so I tell you:
Bend. Don’t break.
Fly. Don’t fall.
Hope. Don’t give up.
But if you do….
The broken can be put back together.
The fallen can rise.
And the hopeless, can learn to dream again.