Little girls

Little Girls

I know you are scared.

We are scared too.

We are scared for our daughters and sisters,

for the children who should be chasing dreams

instead of learning fear.

We are scared that innocent smiles

can hide dangerous hearts.

We are scared that trusted hands

can leave lasting wounds.

We are scared that those who promise protection

often arrive too late,

and those who shape our future

are destroying our present.

Little girls,

The world is frightening now.

The roads seem longer,

the shadows seem darker,

and every warning sounds louder

than it did before.

We wish we could tell you

that every door is safe,

that every stranger is kind,

that every cry for help will be heard.

But today, those promises

feel heavier than words.

Little girls,

I am not asking you to be brave.

For bravery is frightening too.

When fear walks beside you,

courage can feel like a burden.

When danger wears a familiar face,

even trust becomes difficult.

So I will not ask you to be fearless.

Instead, I will mourn with you.

I will mourn the innocence stolen,

the trust broken,

the laughter interrupted,

the childhoods forever marked.

Little girls,

You deserved a better world.

A world where playgrounds remained playgrounds,

where homes remained shelters,

where power protected

instead of preyed upon.

A world where your dreams

were larger than your fears.

Little girls,

We are angry.

We are grieving.

We are ashamed.

Ashamed that so many warnings were ignored.

Ashamed that justice often arrives slowly.

Ashamed that children must carry fears

they never deserved.

And yet,

we will speak.

For silence has protected the guilty

for far too long.

We will remember.

We will grieve.

We will demand better.

Until little girls can be little girls again.

Until childhood is no longer a battlefield.

Until fear no longer follows you home.

Little girls,

I know you are scared.

We are scared too.