You, whose phoenix feathers
are not visible to a passerby:
I see you.
Do not weigh your purpose
like a grain of sand on the beach:
ordinary, plentiful – there is no one
that shines like you. Did you know that
sand can turn into glass?
You are not a pit of uncertainties
but your own kiln of memories.
You do not speak for the sake of speech;
you listen in creation and drape your sun
alongside people’s shadows to illuminate
the space within them.
Do not hammer your worth to faces
or numbers: there is no price tag
for the way the moon loves the ocean,
the sun the mountains, the rivers the stone.
None can give love to the night, the silence,
the spaces, in the way that you do.
You are a bookmark life has lovingly
pressed into pages, recognition of the words;
you are the glare in the ripples of water,
discovering change. Do you know that
over and over,
I’ll always pick you.