When you were born
I didn't know that you would crawl into my bed at 11 years old
asking me why it was that some people were just so mean
I guess I thought you'd live a little longer in your womb-like dream

When you were 5
Mom asked me to put u to sleep because you wouldn't listen to anyone else
And so we would sit on our magic carpet which was maybe a yoga mat or perhaps an old newspaper
And dream of  places we could go to in our heads
Places we would go to together
They said I spoiled you
I just didn’t want you to grow up like anyone else
I guess I didn’t want you to grow up at all

At 6, I told you, you had superpowers
Just like the fantastical creatures you read about in books you had your own magical powers too
You believed me then, a part of you still does
You used to whisper our codename in my ear once in a while
Superpowers you'd say and smile; it was our secret
A Secret no one else knew but you and I

At 6 and a half Tally died
You didn't sleep for a few days
You cried more that week then when Grandpa died
I didn’t know until then that someone could be so deeply connected to a turtle
In the way that you were
But I learnt that you'll always be able to speak to animals
More than any of us ever could

When you were 7, you wrote little notes to your teachers in the margins of your homework
They were painfully sweet and childlike in their innocence
Probably ended up in the trash
Once someone made a comment about it
They said you weren't supposed to do that and that was you wrote was babyish
You shrank inward a little... I know it hurt
I'm not sure you wrote that much after

Then at 7 and a half, you understood how school kills every Childs soul  
But still, Mom made you go
You were petrified of becoming a boring adult
So I sat you down and taught you to brush off what your teachers said
To just doodle in the corners of your notebook and dream
I bought you an ideas book, told you to create worlds
Your teachers called worried
They said you were spacing out a lot
But I smiled inside when I heard

At 8, I used to sneak into your room past bedtime
Mom hated that I did that
She said I wasn't your parent
But you never liked to go to bed
And so we cuddled late at night, in the quiet
Although I never could put my arm around you, only by your side
It was just one of your things
Like the way my kisses were just too slobbery
So we started doing butterfly ones

When you turned 9, I left home
But mom would still call me in the mornings when you were in bed
screaming and refusing to go to school
She would ask me to try and calm you down
7:45 AM...mom screaming and everyone flustered
They never knew our secret
We didn't talk for long but I reminded you of your superpowers
And you usually got up

In the next year I was away, we invented imagination hugs
In fields of tulips and over the clouds
Newly discovered planets and underwater worlds
So many places we went to in our minds together
You always closed your eyes and you might not have believed me
but I also did every time
When we got to the part when I hugged you, I felt your love envelope me
My little one, my innocent

I came home when you were 10, heard you made friends
With girls you later told me you didn't really like
You could never be friends with girls your age because they did mean things
Like waste food and step on ants
And the adults you didn’t like either
Because they always made fun of your dreams
So you started daydreaming all the time
Like in the car and in your third grade history class
You daydreamed when there was business talk at the dinner table
You hated it
I know you never said it out loud
But once you whispered in my ear that you wished they didn't talk so much about that stuff
You said adults were boring
And that adults gave up on their dreams
You were right

You got real big and so I took you shopping for your first bra
But I made sure to tell you that even though you were growing ******* you didn’t have to be an adult quite yet
Suddenly, you had bigger thoughts and wondered a lot
About why people threw out their old carboard boxes
Instead of turning them into houses for the crickets or models for people's dreams
About what we got out of light pollution that made it worth erasing the stars
You wondered why people didn’t just sew their own clothes
And asked if it was possible for you to go to one of those other schools you found online
Instead of sitting in a stiff row of desks every day
As the world let you down, you grow more and more quiet
your eyes opened, your throat closed and your words dried up

Then you were 11, almost a women, and the world had even more rules
And so you locked your bedroom door
I hoped you still wondered, still had dreams
But we only spoke about real things once in a while
You were a little girl soul with big girl ideas and big girl problems
You watched adults cry and scream about things that didn’t matter
And so you stopped crying about things that did
You slept with your cousin when she was too scared to sleep alone
And woke up to comfort your big sister
You even gave me with hugs when I needed them

That same year, you made a friend you actually liked, she was my friend
You loved her because she saw you
And would talk to you about your dreams
And when I didn't have the time to cherish your innocence. She did
On the night she was in the hospital and I thought she died
You came and comforted me. You were the only one I let in my room
No one knew really how connected you and her were
You said nothing, but looked at me with these beautiful sad eyes
I'm not sure you really knew much
But we always spoke in shmush language anyways

At 11 and a half, you cried to me about the girls in your class
How they once called a black man awful names and how you ran out to the bathroom and cried
I still saw a soft little girl
But now you read biographies of black people in front of their faces, to teach them loving kindness
You still get mad at adults for being boring and always thinking about money
And still don’t get what money really is anyway
You still ask me why countries go to war and why some people **** other people
Why grown ups scream and argue and choose to live sad
Now you watch videos of Greta Thumberg and learn about climate change
And yet, you still get mad at people for not recycling

Your eyes are still sparkling
You hold the caterpillars in hand
And build worlds with old tree stumps
Your heart is on fire
But you're growing more silent with time
More soft and delicate about your words
You never shout what's on your mind anymore
I guess you've learnt that people don't hear your dreams
Your eleven now, though
My beautiful soul of a sister
Your eleven now almost 12
And then 13…
And 14…
And 15…
My little girl- I'll always believe in your dreams
Please, though, grow a little stronger, and get a little louder
Your innocence is your beauty, your pulsing heart
But this broken world doesn’t need your quiet
It needs your voice