You tell me, baby cousinthat things, seem hopeless. I know, and if I could, I would cocoon your caterpillar body into my arms and siphon off all the pain until wings began to grow in its place and you, were ready to fly, but I am too far away.

So instead I am writing you a poem. making paper chains with my words to wrap you up and eventually, if I write enough, they may keep you warm. And maybe,when you hear the word "no” stinging your face like a sleet storm in the middle of what the weatherman said should've been a springtime day, you'll remember this poem.

when people give you cold shoulders and When life, gives you cold nights; when you want to take its icicle handouts and hang like stalicites or break off the stalicites in your hand and pierce the fledgling beginnings of ambition blossoming from your chest, please choose life.

The word “can’t” seems stuck on your tongue but all I see is possibility, it's gift wrapped in beautiful packaging even if it's unassuming, and unexpected. I've learned this from you.

You who choose to affirm people at their worst - even though you are completely unsure about your faith journey. But maybe, you know more about faith than me because well, faith is defined as belief in what we cannot see, and there are days when my self hatred blots out any good inside like dark storm clouds covering the sun, days, it would seem to be no silver lining in the seams and you still choose to believe in me.

And on the days you feel like you’ve run out of strength to believe, I still pray over your heart daily, that it stay as tender as a child's who has never experienced heartbreak. I harbor no regrets. One of my favorite poets said that it hurts to become - and that may be, but just like you believe In me, there are a few things I have full confidence in...

Number one, in the beginning God spoke - everything. Number two, this world has turned into a horrible place since then, but if this world was created by words then your words can change it. I've heard them. Number three. You. that one day, you will shine brighter than all the stars stretched across the skies of time, entire worlds will exist in your orbit, and you, will fill them with light.

So if it must hurt to become, then I hope each bit of pain enlargens your heart like a mother giving birth. That what you create will enrapture you with such joy that you will look down at your creation, cradle it in your arms, thinking every contraction was worth it and realize you are in love.

But for now, love, breathe easy. Drop the icy dagger you have pointed at your hopes and dreams. Let it melt away at this poem's feet as you crawl into the warmth of my words and sleep. You can do anything. It hurts, I know. It's because you're becoming. And this isn't hopelessness you're feeling, you're growing wings.