to my younger self
I am
eight feet tall

look at her accomplishments
traveling the world
speaking foreign tongues

the awe
the inspiration

to my younger self
this could not be me

merely a book character
lived through

engaging with the city
drinking fresh coffee
perched on a stool
watching the locals pass by the window

climbing dusty mountains
breathing humid jungle air
and fresh salty fog

placing body
into seawater
push and pull

heart beating
as I read my love story

to my older self

here I am

not so impressive
as I would have seemed

strange mouth stumbling
over unfamiliar
words and sounds

anxiety ridden
when needing to travel
beyond small havens
set to feel like “home”

letting the busy world
rush and pass by
push and pull

not belonging
and sometimes not wanting
to belong

to my older self

I am yet
and still

a wide-eyed
naive and inexperienced
confused and wandering



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