A poem for Jess

This is a poem to my friend, Jess
whose mess is beautiful
and whose beauty is a mess.

To Jess,

whose room is a cavern of open books, fabric,
of thoughts and captured moments.
On their own, tiny islands- inconsequential,
but let her swirl them together, and a room becomes an
explosion of profuse and profound beauty.
She calls it disaster, I call it a treasure chest.

To Jess,

whose heart is soft and big,
filled with dreams, pain, wonder and lessons hard learned,
and ill at ease with its imperfections.
She calls herself enemy, I call her angel.
She calls herself stranger, to me she is home.
(I know better).

To Jess,

I love her and one day she’ll see
The extraordinary beauty in her room, her head, her life.
And she’ll stop trying to clean it up and instead,
laugh and revel in it.