Womanchild

Womanchild in over sized shoes
playing a role
she did not choose.
Born in position to be the first.
Some days it feels
like she was cursed.
"I'm still a baby
who needs to be coddled!
Yet, I'm all grown up
and don't want to be bottled!"
Her womanchild cries
do not fall on deaf ears.
I watch her sleep
and shed guilty tears.
She's half way there
Eighteen is not far.
I want to stop time
and keep things as they are.
No, I want to go back
to the day she was born
so that I can redo
all the things that I mourn.
I want to remember
to make her feel loved
so when six more were born
she didn't feel shoved.
She's done so much in such a short time. I put too much on her. Unintentional crime.
She stands so tall now,
so clumsy an age.
But beauty still shines
through the awkward stage.
A leader, a nurturer,
loved by her peers.
But at home she is taunted,
reduced to tears.
Brothers who hit her.
She cries in her room.
I'm saddened,
wishing her back in my womb.
Can't change the past.
Must focus on now.
Must make up for things
though I don't know how.
Nine years I've wasted.
But nine more of chances.
to play dolls, talk with her,
dance silly dances.
Her innocence,
I know, must be preserved.
I'll give her the childhood
she's always deserved.
Happy early birthday my sweet Marlie!