Brave

I don't know why you spoke to me that day,

That day when I was at my lowest. 

Perhaps you knew. Did you?

Did you know how vulnerable I was?

Could you see the misery on my face?

Maybe it was the uncertainty in my eyes?

Maybe you just knew that I needed guidance,

That I needed support, and encouragement. 

Whatever the reason, I am grateful. 

As grateful for the sun on my skin

or the air in my lungs

or the cool water running down my throat. 

I am grateful but often forgetful. 

I forget to thank you, 

or to ask you how your day has been. 

But never will I forget that day. 

The day I left your classroom in tears,

Scalding droplets trailing down my cheeks, 

because for the first time in months,

someone believed in me. 

Someone thought that I could do whatever I wanted.

Someone told me that I was more than my parents' wishes. 

Someone lifted that cloud of misery that had hung threateningly over me for so long

I am forgetful, but never can I forget that day. 

And if someone asks me for advice, 

I will repeat your words,

the words that felt like a hug, 

the phrase that warmed me like an "I love you," 

the sentence that gave me hope. 

I will tell them, 

"It's time to think about being brave."