I say this to you as you look in the mirror with sorrow in your eyes, no kindness wrapped around your body;
Remember that the lines on your face tell a story. Eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead,
And not just any story, but your story.
Please don't regret your own story: your own life, all the ugliness and beauty of it.
Remember why you laughed and why you cried, every tear and smile written in your skin, all the love and pain you ever felt, the juxtaposition and duality of everything.
Remember the butterflies, felt so intensely then, now faint and unimportant. Queasy or otherwise, remember their soaring, swooping exhilaration.
Remember that the scars and calluses on your hands are a recording of all the work you've done.
Don't feel that you've done too much, or haven't done enough
Because you've done just fine, and you always worked hard, even if it wasn't your best.
Remember the things you've built with your hands, hard and toughened and twisted, and the things you've built with your heart, broken and repaired in gold and silver, to show that in breaking you have strengthened and become even more beautiful.
Remember the hands you've held, shaken, touched, harder and softer than your own, and remember the hair you've stroked in love, tenderness, or imagination.
Remember what you've written, what you've drawn, the simplicity or complexity or your own work, influenced and inspired by other beautiful souls and your own path.
Remember that each one represents a memory, the white streaks in your hair
Once dark and full or color, now salt and pepper, then white as snow, reborn even in age.
Don't regret the loss of brown or red or gold or black, but celebrate the length and depth of your long life.
Remember the boys, men and children you've loved, birthed, lost and won.
Remember the dreams you've had, abandoned in doubt or practicality, or fervently pursued and accomplished.
Remember the songs you've sung, in joy, hope, and pain, colors weaving and wending through you limbs and footsteps, binding you to and releasing you from the paths of others.
Remember the light you've known and the darkness unloved, but no less essential or beautiful or transformative.
Remember the hills, mountains, skies, fields, valleys, and crevasses you've strode, climbed and crawled; canyons are not impossible to climb, and contain both the high and the low.
Remember life well-lived, well-loved, well left, and be at peace now and then.
Know the truth in what I say, take it into your heart, and make it your own.
Embrace the past of your present and carry it lightly and well into the future.
Remember that the lines on your face tell a story. Eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead,
And not just any story, but your story.
Please don't regret your own story: your own life, all the ugliness and beauty of it.
Remember why you laughed and why you cried, every tear and smile written in your skin, all the love and pain you ever felt, the juxtaposition and duality of everything.
Remember the butterflies, felt so intensely then, now faint and unimportant. Queasy or otherwise, remember their soaring, swooping exhilaration.
Remember that the scars and calluses on your hands are a recording of all the work you've done.
Don't feel that you've done too much, or haven't done enough
Because you've done just fine, and you always worked hard, even if it wasn't your best.
Remember the things you've built with your hands, hard and toughened and twisted, and the things you've built with your heart, broken and repaired in gold and silver, to show that in breaking you have strengthened and become even more beautiful.
Remember the hands you've held, shaken, touched, harder and softer than your own, and remember the hair you've stroked in love, tenderness, or imagination.
Remember what you've written, what you've drawn, the simplicity or complexity or your own work, influenced and inspired by other beautiful souls and your own path.
Remember that each one represents a memory, the white streaks in your hair
Once dark and full or color, now salt and pepper, then white as snow, reborn even in age.
Don't regret the loss of brown or red or gold or black, but celebrate the length and depth of your long life.
Remember the boys, men and children you've loved, birthed, lost and won.
Remember the dreams you've had, abandoned in doubt or practicality, or fervently pursued and accomplished.
Remember the songs you've sung, in joy, hope, and pain, colors weaving and wending through you limbs and footsteps, binding you to and releasing you from the paths of others.
Remember the light you've known and the darkness unloved, but no less essential or beautiful or transformative.
Remember the hills, mountains, skies, fields, valleys, and crevasses you've strode, climbed and crawled; canyons are not impossible to climb, and contain both the high and the low.
Remember life well-lived, well-loved, well left, and be at peace now and then.
Know the truth in what I say, take it into your heart, and make it your own.
Embrace the past of your present and carry it lightly and well into the future.
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