A Letter

Dear 8 year old me,
You are going to make it.
You are going to be safe.
Life is not always a battle.
Just for now. Ten years of now.
The next ten, too.
Then, you will make it.

Twenty years of war
In a twenty-eight year life.
It was not going to be easy
But you were always going to survive.

Loneliness is your only
Survival kit. Being alone
Is not frightening.
It is the safe in which
You will keep your heart.
Loneliness is your tool.
It will keep you alive.

You will learn how to
Stop being lonely.
You will learn when
To stay and when to go.
By staying and going at all
The wrong times, and some of
The right ones, too.

When you learn that timing
Is everything, and words
Will always hold the scales
In balance. They will be on
The tip of your tongue
And at the tips of your
Fingers resisting the urge
To fight will become your
New battle ground.

But you, darling child,
Will figure it out.
And when you do,
All the dust collected in your mind
Will settle, revealing that you
Have always been made of stars.
You will know that sometimes
The nights are cloudy, but the stars
Are shining even when you can’t see them.
And they are so old, but so strong that time
Does not define their light.
long after they Die, they are there to guide your night.

You have a lifetime to recover
The childhood that you are not
getting. The secret to life
Is balancing the child and adult
Inside you. Your balance has been tipped,
But you will learn that now is just a
Present, holding the future, wrapped in the past.

You are going to make it,
You will always make it.
You will always have that
Stardust on your heart.

With love,


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