To the child who always knew the world contained magic and wonder, beauty and goodness, even when the pain was enough to swallow her whole.
To the small young one I used to be, I owe so much to her heart that never gave up hope.
She didn’t let the adult me completely cover my heart in concrete, she kept the ancient song that whispers in my bones, alive.
When this human world was too painful to be in, she knew that this natural landscape; inside and out, still contained strength, courage, medicine and tenderness.
And now I come back to her more and more with each day, full circle; with gratitude beyond measure.
Brigit Anna McNeill 💫
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