Braver

I found it in the garage,

pages yellowed, spine cracked,

and there it was—a message,

a stranger's blue pen, tracked

across the page so hard

it dented, and the letters lean

forward, desperate. Scarred

with doubt on "braver"—they'd seen

something I'd buried deep,

something I couldn't see,

and they left it for me to keep:

"You're braver than you'll be,

Keep going." Nearly

forty years later, I found it,

sat on concrete, read it, nearly

cried, because someone buoyed

my life without knowing,

without remembering,

and I've been growing

from their whisper, their finger

on the pen, their hesitation,

their belief that I could be brave—

the only confirmation

I've ever had that I was saved.