You weren’t born into this world to cower; to sit quietly, tongue-tied, silent.
You weren’t born into this world to appease those too scared to feel what they’re feeling.
You weren’t born into this world to save others from their need to grow and change and face their choices.
You weren’t born into this world to keep the waters calm; safe from storms and hurricanes.
You weren’t born into this world to be a shadow person, barely there, see-through and small.
You weren’t born into this world to become a slave to those who see the value in profit, but not in lives.
You weren’t born into this world to cut off your edges, smooth down your sides, dig up your foundations and dismantle your boundaries, so you can fit into a space made by someone else’s idea of what you should be.
You weren’t born into this life an imperfect thing that needs to be worked on.
You weren’t born into this life fragmented and lacking, needing to be made whole.
This life didn’t break you, but the world told you that it did; too fragile to mend, hush now.
You were born into a world that’s forgotten the sea and land from which it came.
One that’s forgotten about seasons and cycles and rhythms and ebb and flow.
One that’s forgotten to give instead of just take.
One that thinks it has control and is in charge.
One where nature is separate and rules are to be followed and there’s a hierarchy to life and you, my darling, don’t make the cut.
Because you weren’t born into this world to fit in with it.
You were born into this world to live with your words and your wholeness and your wisdom and rage.
You were born into this world to let go of control, to weather the storms, to rise.
You were born into this world, in your wholeness and wisdom and sight to see this world for what it is, and to choose to rewrite the stories of your brokenness, your smallness, your fragmented self, to see through the untruths you’ve been told, to see that feeling is not the same as being, to live your dreams into life, to weave your stories anew, into a masterpiece of your own making.
Unpick those threads that don’t fit.
Rewrite those words.
You were born to live.