If She Could

from Out With Lanterns, a daily poetry practice

If she could, she’d go back to that rainy afternoon
in her childhood home. Age seven, warm in bed
with pencil, paper, hearing a directive so clearly 
from Spirit: Escape to the page. Find refuge there.

She’d tell the little girl who speaks to trees, 
who feels the world’s intense sentience
not to listen when they said, 
You’re too sensitive. Just go watch TV.

She’d say: Trust what you know.
Remember you’re already magic. 
You carry gifts, not burdens. 
Don’t you dare fit in. 

Photo by Laura Cleffmann on Unsplash