There you are.

You beautiful thing you.

Someone wanted you dead before you were even born.

Still, here you are. Not in spite of suffering, or out of spite toward everyone who accused and betrayed you.

No.

You’re soft. Curious. Receptive. You don’t give your heart in pieces. You give your blazing, expansive heart, bursting with intensity. You show up brave and awake and aware.

You made mistakes that hurt people you love, and fell short of who you are. You were not true to your self. I forgive you.

I forgive you for not being beautiful in the way you wanted to be. You don’t have the luxury of a static, aesthetic beauty, and you’ve always felt that keenly. Because you value beauty so highly. And because you carry seeds of beauty inside you, and scatter them everywhere you go. Beauty is in your wake, ready to spring up in the bare patches.

I forgive you for what you are unable to see. I forgive you for not knowing what you needed to know when you needed to know it. I forgive you for counting your heart as a cheap thing.

You are not cheap.

You’re not difficult or picky. You’re not needy. You don’t push people away.

I forgive you for hating your body. I forgive you for being attracted to pain. I forgive you for lashing out, fighting back, trying to justify yourself. I forgive you for wielding your words as weapons.

You know what I don’t forgive you for? I do not forgive you for being intimidating. That’s not you. You are formidable. You are meek. You are dangerous only to what is not life.

I forgive you for everything about you that is too late to be, lost, and wasted.
There is gold in your land, and the gold there is good.

I know this almost feels like blasphemy, but what if what you were born to create is right on time?  What if you are always in the right place at precisely the right time?

There’s more where that came from. I know you doubt that right now, and I forgive you for that too.