I want you to know
that we love you more than
wings belong on a plane; and no one
is allowed
to tell you otherwise
and even though our love doesn’t “count” at recess
and a bag of skittles is worth more than well-tied laces
and the other children run to christen each other with scabs and burns
- hopeless, loveless, alone -
and you want to cry and feel justified
and hate us
and live without us
know that our love can be wings on a dragonfly instead
no longer blatantly reinforced; without metal or screws
but strong, still, and fast to catch you
when you feel lost
and trip up on life and adolescence and poems I read once, too.
Know that some people feel owed the world
and they are incomplete,
and some people feel like they owe the world,
and they are incomplete, too,
and no matter how hard you breathe
or how fast you run
you will not feel complete
until debt becomes the illusion in your eyes
we always hoped it would be.
Know that friends are pastel blue
and family is hazy green
and sometimes they overlap
and make the shades of the sea,
and it is okay to be ashamed of where you come from
but beginnings are forever
in a way endings never quite were.
Know that expectations are meaningless
and so is motivation
and so are opinions
but if they come from you
even the meaningless
can take flight
on the right wings.
Know that no one will beat the Beatles,
and sometimes cousins have more toys, and that’s okay,
and you will turn into your mother eventually
(no matter how hard you fight it)
so I will do my best.