You Matter

Matthew Rosin

You matter.

There is no one like you; never will be again,
from the birth of the earth to its outermost end.

You —
an eager shout, a sacred “Yes!”
that moves your flesh, your bone, your breath.

You—
she, he, ze, they, you are whole and okay,
gracefully teaching your truth and your way.

You
cannot be forgotten. We cherish you so.
Your voice and your hands can do more than you know.

You
see old things anew. You turn them and test them.
Your wonder exhausts our old words to express them.

You
speak and lay bare all you dig up and hold
aloft from the dust of conventions grown cold.

You
up-end every rock and pursue every glimmer
and give a new name to each sparkle and shimmer.

You
chart out new paths, go beyond our horizons:
new friendships, new stories, your hope always rising.

You,
welcome and wanted, whatever your skin,
wherever the neighborhood you were born in.

You
play across fences that keep us divided.
Old walls become weak where your love is ignited.

You
call us to kindness and questions, reminding:
the life of our living is found in the finding.

You!
There is no one like you; never will be again,
from the birth of the earth to its outermost end.

You matter. You do. We’ll keep learning with you.
Now stand on our shoulders. See what you can do.