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.
