You live a life of constantly looking the other way. Shutting your eyes, waiting the war out. Waiting for the soldiers (each side is the enemy) to lower their guns. One day, your sons and daughters will play on the battleground.
This is for the men who somehow made it to college without knowing the difference between a woman and a vending machine. And to the people who could somehow see the “difference” between a gay and a human.
We live in a world where men are more afraid of holding another man’s hand than holding a grenade — men, put your armor down. Let your heart bleed. We have the same scars, we have fought the same wars and I know, your tears taste just like the ocean and sometimes you don’t know how to swim either. But that’s what waves are for.
Welcome to the art of floating. We drown ourselves in poetry until we are left dry, gasping. Our hearts are cut out in the open, waiting, begging for the first drop in a hurricane — the only place it calls home.
But when the sun shines, love, let me tell you a secret. Your scars look beautiful in the sunlight. Remember to never let go of your compassion. Wear your kindness like armor. Remember that the word “hero” can be spelled two ways: he-ro and her-o. We are all made of paper hearts and half-finished sentences. You can close your eyes. And when you wake up tomorrow, I promise you the world will have changed.
