I'll write you all responses on paper
      but struggle for the courage 
      to send them because 

To be like you is all I want –
      smelling of ashes and pine wood.
      The moon is glaring at me from above.

All of your words are hozhó
      (beauty). I wish I could feel
      to the extent you all do. 

How to articulate everything I am thinking?
      I have no memories of the place I
      was born, unlike you. Maybe I envy that.

Can I hug you? Let's talk 
      over some hot coffee (or tea!) and
      you can tell me whatever you like.

I'm your friend, built to listen.
      We are all diné (human) and I realize now 
      I am writing that from the Abenaki's land.

Your voices are beautiful; I love 
      your jean jackets and ruffled blue 
      shirts and red lipstick. 

Sometimes it feels like I don't have the courage for
      anything that you do, and I beat 
      my mind for thinking that. I am more confident than that.

You are in your apartments and cars and 
      you have not yet heard my name (due 
      to the previously mentioned lack of courage) but here 
      I am, and this is my response.

Hello.