The Firstborn Daughter’s Burden
I was the first to feel the weight,
Of promises made and hands of fate.
They poured their dreams into my skin,
A tapestry of all they’d been.
Their hopes were stars I tried to reach,
Yet each one brought its own new breach.
They called me strong, but never knew,
The nights I wore the darkest hue.
I held their worries, their silent fears,
Wrapped them in smiles, swallowed the tears.
I learned to be brave before my time,
Stepping back when the bell would chime.
For every dream, I held my breath,
Fearful of failure’s heavy depth.
Would I meet the mark, would I be enough?
Would they see me behind the tough?
The rules were strict, the lines so tight,
A fragile girl beneath the fight.
But being first meant leading through,
When they stumbled, I had to too.
I made mistakes that cut like glass,
Their echoes lingered, slow to pass.
Yet they would say to those who came,
"Be more like her"—and call my name.
So I bit my tongue and swallowed pride,
Played the part of the constant guide.
I walked the path no one had paved,
A trail of doubts I’d never saved.
And when my sisters, brothers fell,
I stood tall, a ringing bell.
Silent strength they could rely,
But oh, how many times I’d cry.
For sometimes I longed to just let go,
To drift along where rivers flow.
To be the child, to drop the shield,
To lay down arms upon the field.
Yet still, I rise and still I stand,
With gentler hearts held in my hand.
For every weight that pulls me low,
Is the love that taught me how to grow.
