No matter how old I grow there will always be a child inside of me.
I am coming to believe we cannot outgrow or outrun or leave behind the child we once were.
I think that’s a good thing.

I am beginning to see there is still a child in all of us.
We’ve grown older, but we haven’t outgrown the child we used to be.
Everything has changed, but everything is the same.

All of us are fragile.
All of us are hurting from something.
All of us are hiding a scar from the world.
All of us are carrying the heaviness of moving forward.
All of us are wondering.
All of us are searching.
All of us are longing.
All of us are waiting for something or someone or someday.
All of us get our hearts broken and dreams shattered.
All of us have something beautiful and hidden within us.
All of us need grace and hugs and dessert after dinner.

All of us are still children.

This is the beauty of becoming.

Hopeful and hurting.
Growing and changing.
Insecure and brave.
Waiting and wandering.
Searching and celebrating.
Asking how and wondering why.
Fragile and beloved.

All of us are still children.

And if all of us are still children that means there is still some magic inside of us.

There is still some room to grow and become and understand.

There are still questions to ask and kindness to spread and bikes to ride.

There is still room.

There is still time.

There is still more.

For more of my poetry, check out my books!