I remember the first time I saw this post here, in 2017 I think? It made me feel so much I had to write a poem about it, but I never shared it anywhere before until I replied to the post a while back, but I don't know if that actually worked because it doesn't seem to show even on the post reblogged on my own blog oddly. So, technically this is a repost I suppose but it means a lot to me.
I've got something for you
Tied up with a bow
Is it pink?
Is it glittery?
Is it pretty?
That's what I think I'm meant to wonder
- not of stars seen from afar,
nor the burning glow of chemicals,
or indiscreet numbers doodled -
I think I'm meant to care about that
Every girl asks
But she doesn't know yet
Entirely
What the world is
Or what she ought to be
There are the hints though
The creeping sense of what she should let go
The push into putting on a show
There is something for her
Something amazing in scale
Something shiny with a sharp gleam
Something pretty wonderful
Something that gives and gives
Past that one time
The moment you don't chide
At the dirt and mess that might be
The second you don't hesitate
To congratulate her at biting cleverness
Or when you don't separate her
From her unexpected new interest
The point where you throw caution to the wind
And agree, let's do this, let's take a risk
Build a rocket, climb a mountain
Whatever it is, let them
Get out there
Because it's not about someone genteel, really
Being a girl isn't about staying pristine
Growing into a woman who has held back
Who holds back every day, not sure
What to say, what to do
What it is they will let you
Get away with
Who treats this
As if, maybe, it isn't a gift
Not for her
Only a place she's been allowed
If she can get it right somehow
We should say, away with that
With the sketchy lines
And the plastic wrap
To keep the dolls pretty
As a picture, a painting imitating something we're calling life
No, what we need today, is
Something for her
Not for all the others, trying to control every speck of dust
Keeping the scene just so, with rights to adjust us
Not a gift given with expectations upon expectations
Subtle layers, of how you must 'like' because we pronounce this
With an ever present pretence of protection to it we can't miss
That day should die; I know it will be slowly
In fits and starts as it goes, grasping close to the status quo
But instead, I hope someday we have someone to say
Freely -
as inspiration hits and a smile is committed on their lips
- to each growing person who needs it
I like you this way,
You're pretty brilliant
