They handed me strength
before I was old enough
to know how heavy it was.
So I learned
to swallow my needs whole,
to carry silence like duty,
to become a home
for everyone else’s storms.
Now love arrives softly
and I still flinch at it.
Hands reach out to help me
and instinct tells me
to say, “I’m fine.”
Because first-born daughters
are raised like bridges
built to hold weight,
even when they are cracking underneath.
And sometimes I wonder
who teaches the strong girl
that she is allowed
to rest too.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 11:59 PM UTC
They handed me strength
before I was old enough
to know how heavy it was.
So I learned
to swallow my needs whole,
to carry silence like duty,
to become a home
for everyone else’s storms.
Now love arrives softly
and I still flinch at it.
Hands reach out to help me
and instinct tells me
to say, “I’m fine.”
Because first-born daughters
are raised like bridges
built to hold weight,
even when they are cracking underneath.
And sometimes I wonder
who teaches the strong girl
that she is allowed
to rest too.
Request permission to use this poem