To the child who couldn’t understand why nobody could understand.
To the one whose hand was never taken, whose eyes were never gazed into by an adult who said, “I love you. You are a miracle. You are holy, right now and forever.”
To the one who grew up in the realm of “can’t.”
To you who lived “never enough.”
To the one who came home to no one there, and there but not home.
To the one who could never understand why she was being hit by hands, words, ignorance.
To the one whose innocence was  unceremoniously stolen.
To the one who fought back.
To the one who shattered.
To the never not broken one.
To the child who survived.
To the one who was told she was sinful, bad, ugly.
To the one who didn’t fit.
To she who bucked authority and challenged the status quo.
To the one who called out the big people for lying, hiding and cruelty.
To the one who never stopped loving anyway.
To the child that was forbidden to need.
To the ones whose dreams were crushed by adults whose dreams were crushed.
To the one whose only friend was the bursting, budding forest.
To the ones who prayed to the moon, who sang to the stars in the secrecy of the night to keep the darkness at bay.
To the child who saw God in the bursting sunshine of dandelion heads
and the whispering clover leaf.
To the child of light who cannot die,
even when she’s choking in seven seas of darkness.
To the one love
I am and you are.

You are holy.
I love you.
You are a miracle.

Your life,
your feelings,
your hopes and dreams–
they matter.

Somebody failed you but you will not fail.
Somebody looked in your eyes and saw the sun — blazing — and got scared.
Somebody broke your heart but your love remains perfect.
Somebody lost their dreams and thought you should too, but you mustn’t.

Somebody told you that you weren’t enough or too much, but you are without question the most perfect and holy creation of God’s own hands.