Dear my 7 year old self,
I’m sorry that no one came to your rescue when you needed it most,
That no one could better prepare you for polite church parties and family gatherings
Where you shouldn’t have been forced to smile so much
After hearing the same snide remarks on repeat,
“If you just smiled more, you would be much prettier.”
And hug strangers you barely knew.
I’m sorry that people silenced you when you wanted to talk about sports or writing
or anything really
I’m deeply sorry that you live in a world where the slightest glance
Or brush of hand walking past,
May give a man “permission”
To accept a message we didn’t speak.
It’s unfortunate that the guardians couldn’t protect your angelic face forever,
And that your starry hazel eyes have had to cry so many heavy tears
Because the world sucks
And the games weren’t fun at all.
I’m sorry that the pain left your eyes glassy with confusion,
And scars that still bleed when scratched today.
I’m writing to show you how much you are loved,
How much I love you,
And how much I think you are the strongest person I know.
Can you remember to sing our favorite song, Kiss from a Rose?
When you stare up at the cracked blue ceiling on sleepless nights.
Will you promise me that you will run and jump and read for as long as you want?
That you will never feel weak when you cry or get hurt?
That you will never let a man define your worth? Your happiness?
I want to tell you,
That there is no need to be scared of the dark world upon you.
Because as you will soon see,
This pain has a thousand tiny slits in its gargantuan claws,
That your soft,
Small fists can fit through and tear apart
Using the love and bravery that you bestow upon others.
You are powerful beyond belief,
Armed with words sharper than any knives I’ve seen,
And an army of women,
With stories just like yours.
You will find your grace in advocacy,
And heal others by healing yourself.
I want you believe,
That you will turn out eternally beautiful.