if she only knew

Knew that all songs were written for her. Knew that poetry flew on the wings of the same doubt that she clutches to survive. Knew that each time we take flight, it is with the same reservations that ring loud to topple her from the pedestal that she so reluctantly assumed. If there was a way for her to know that we are in this together. That what she feels now, we have all felt. That the worry that engulfs her susceptible soul is not more severe, not less important than anyone else has ever felt. Books would not have been written. Great stories of humanity would not have been recorded if the lives of those who create were not riddled with anxiety. Rippled and holed, shredded each day to a million pieces then glued together with capricious spring winds. If she knew to listen to the signs, to read to the words, to see the thoughts, she would find remedy for her painful fate much sooner.

Imagine that in this endless ocean there is a raft that can take you to the other side. On that shore there are pearls not just shells. There are people from your past, there are possibilities that are endless. The other side is only an island. A floating island of impossibles. Hoops around your ankles, saddled up for a long ride, these clowns will show you which way to find your dreams. See this land is nothing like it would be in fairy tales. Here you can use the waters from lakes to wash the dust off your soul. Here each path leads to challenges that ultimately aid to better the self. No words can roam aimless, they must find their place. Those who live here are only visible to you, each will know your worries and pains. The conversations will show you how breaking then mending can be more beautiful than never breaking at all. You will learn to stand under the waterfall and wait for the words to wash away the anxious wait that you keep. Words will flow where waters should. Clouds will lie on the ground like cushions if you feel you must take a rest. Each step you take will bring you closer to the raft that awaits to bring you back. Back to where you belong.

If she only knew that her words were going to save her. If she only let them do the harrowing task of jumping then flying, she would find that she never needed to take the plunge again. If only she knew that those who read care more than she will ever know. If she knew that parading her most dearly kept secrets made us all so proud. She should know that her words are golden, her fears are conquerable, her worries are what any us feels when confronted with the unknown. If she only knew to keep feeling with depths that are immeasurable, with passion that is unending, with the same heart that beats to beat her. Between the beats that hurt, there will be a beat that saves. Her steady heart will save her. The beats inside her words will save her.

If she only knew that she will very soon be, all right.