When she’s all grown up, I’ll tell her what she needs to know.
See, I’m creating these game plans, so when the times comes, she can pull them out.
And fill in the missing pieces and parts.
And learn the pains of broken hearts.
She’s an innocent one, my sister, but I’m ready to teach her.
The ways of the world that I so forcefully denied from my own mother.
Not out of anger, but out of confusion.
Not out of sadness, but out of delusion.
A mistake, no doubt, one that I often find myself regretting.
And though it may seem that the sun is setting
On my chances; the open windows are closing,
I know that all that I can do is what I should do:
I’ll remold my mind, and help to mold my sister’s mind.
Teach her that her beauty
Really is one of a kind.
When she’s all grown up, I’ll teach her more about the playbook
And how she must never second guess, nor overlook.
For attentiveness to emotion will rule her oceans,
The endless seas of her mesmerizing drive and notions.
Like a goddess, she will master her true craft
And cure her injuries, deny her own wrath
She will learn to rely on trust, but never trust too much
And guard that tender, fragile heart from taking each punch.
Though, I fear that she resembles me in more ways than one:
She’s the epitome of stress, and her life has just begun.
Often I think I’m looking in the mirror, as she cries over the petty things.
But I remind myself, her struggle is just as valid
As true, as real, as honest as the tears she offers me.
I will map out for her the moves to take
But never in the right order
Just guidelines, no borders.
For she must make sense of her own world.
I will lay out the delicious drink and warm meals
That will provide for her soul for days on end
And when she is comfortable enough to call me her friend
I’ll be on the other end
Of the phone lines
For her to cry, mope, and whine
And I’ll listen, hear her words.
When she’s all grown up, I’ll be there to lift her higher
If her candle of faith goes out,
I’ll relight that fire.
I’ll make sure she’s stronger
So she will last longer
Than any other beat down and weak, without endurance
I will give her my advice and offer my assurance.
These game plans from my hands
Are being created as we speak.
As she is here, fast asleep.
She dreams so peacefully,
Dreading the 4th grade blues of essay contests.
But you know what? She’s dauntless.
Despite my plans for her,
She teaches me how to be fearless of this world.
When she grows up, she’ll be the teacher
And maybe I’ll be the student.
And as we float through treacherous weather,
Perhaps we will learn together.