I watch you tie-
your shoelaces,
high ponytail,
eyes on the clock.
You say, “I’ll be back by six.”
And I nod—
but my mind doesn’t listen.
There’s a knot that forms,
in my throat and even –
deep down, ‘somewhere’…
where –
mothers and women carry
generations of unspoken worry!
It’s not your fault
that the world you were born into
measures your skirt
more than your thoughts!
It’s not your fault
that you have to learn –
how to purse your lips,
how to fold your hands,
how to map exits in your head!
And how to not look angry,
how to speak softly-
even when you’re scared!
And yet –
I’ll still tell you
to come home before dark,
to text me when you reach,
to never take the quiet lane!
I hate it.
I hate that I have to teach you –
how to ‘survive’!!!!
When I should be teaching you –
how to be ‘free’.
There are stories,
I will not tell you at your age –
Girls like you…
brilliant, kind, full of light –
dragged by their wrists into ‘headlines’,
reduced to ‘hashtags’,
and fleeting outrage!!
You deserve more
than memorial candles,
TVroom debates and –
never ending trials!
You deserve
a life so full and fearless –
that the world has to adjust to you;
not the other way around.
And I swear,
on every cell in my being,
we will not raise –
another generation of silence.
You are not here
to be careful;
You are here
to be alive and shine!
And that,
in this world –
is already a revolution.
Dear Girl, I Owe You….
