Your 12th Birthday

Four thousand three hundred and eighty days have passed today and I still have things to teach you brother. Tell you secrets to infiltrate your way into the beyond. Hear you tell me I’m wrong and stay quiet. Show you ways to step over boundaries with shoes you’re still growing into.

I have to ..strengthen your heart with wisdom and stories so it won’t be used too much. Tell you about the girls to stay away from even when their perfume and perfect lips weaken your knees. Sway your opinions on trees and give you a reason to just say fuck YES. 

I want to lead you to be a follower when it’s needed. Feed you with courage, not lies, dust your shoulders off and encourage you to keep trying. Remind you that closed doors means you need to knock louder so they can hear your brilliance. And ask for your opinions because I need you to know they matter. 

I want to hold your hand while hoping your heart only bleeds in your shirt pocket. Watch your tears have the audacity to search for hope the first time she says “I’m leaving”, tell you it’s okay, introduce you to pens on paper not cheap wine and cigarettes. Let your words burn bad memories, not money tell you to break records not hearts. White out your mistakes and take the fall. Teach you how rude can work for you, let you practice on my ego. Hope you learn. 

Today you are half way to being the man you seek to be tomorrow and as scraped knees turn to bruises, borrow mistakes from others. Stand tall and proud, Learn to fall from that height. And as pain stings your soul, Know that you’ll be alright.

You will exchange insecurities for knowledge, and anger for stability. Embrace change without your fists and walk away head high breath deep. Take in the air curiosity built for your strength. Do not look back. Know what you need. 

You have yet to study the purple sky like it was your talisman. Let it be your luck in the morning and trust when you seek it for answers. Smell the yearning path to success, participate in your desire to run away and come back eyes closed palms open…pointed to the sky for the sun to burn its secrets into your fingertips and understand some thing were meant to be whispered.

Four thousand three hundred and eighty days have passed today and as the sand beats age into the clock remember brother, tomorrow’s wind May blow stronger and while you seek to stand on solid ground to find your path, you have someone to hold on to.