I never wanted to tame you.
I wanted you wild and messy and free, speaking your own truths in your own tongue. Not a watered down version of yourself, so palatable and dilute; broken and staid.
I wanted you up there in the tree tops, knotted hair blowing around you like a feral halo, pockets full of sea shells and acorns and truth, dancing with fate. When you cried, I never claimed it was all okay, or tried to convince you you were wrong. I held you and stroked your cheeks. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it’s hard. Because you already knew.
I didn’t want to see you bend and break to make others feel more comfortable, I wanted to see you unwavering–honoring your intuition over their opinions. Knowing your heart and your strength and your story. Even with your eyes closed. Even in your sleep.
I didn’t want you polished or need you to comply. I didn’t crave your obedience. My only desire was to watch you unfurl, in wildness and freedom and truth.
And so you did.
Unbroken, authentic, and without apology, you are love and light, barbs and wings. Unwavering, knowing your truth, and trusting your wisdom.
With a cry in your throat and stardust in your eyes, you are wildfire running beneath a full moon sky, following your hearts in the direction of tomorrow, without a single care of how things might appear.
If only we were all.