If you were a tree, what kind would you be?
A Carolina pine, proud head in the clouds?
Or a fat crusty oak, feet spread far and wide?
Are you an old soul? Then a redwood might do.
Both wide and tall, silently watching…
Where are your roots? Are they deep in the ground?
Or climbing over rocks, grasping for something soft and pliable?
Or hanging in space, exposed by wind and weather?
Here, there, anywhere, put your roots down, sink them into the earth.
Grab onto something, maybe clay or sand or your nearest friend.
But make your presence known,
wherever you are.
You belong. You matter. Simply because you exist.
Claim your space.
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