They arrive without armour,
hands open, eyes wide,
the world pouring in before they know its weight.
They do not choose the noise,
the smoke in the air,
the rules written long before their names.
They simply arrive,
trusting us with everything.
We forget how much power sits in grown hands,
how every word becomes a lesson,
how every silence teaches too.
We forget that children read the world
by watching our mouths, our choices,
our excuses.
They come clean of our grudges,
unstained by borders or blame,
asking only for room to grow,
for truth that does not bruise,
for love that does not disappear when it is inconvenient.
It is not enough to say
we did our best.
The future does not run on intentions.
it runs on care,
on courage,
on adults who stay awake.
Because innocence is not weak,
it is borrowed light,
and we are its keepers for a while.
What we build now
becomes their normal.
What we excuse now
becomes their burden.
So let us be steady,
let us be kind in ways that cost something,
let us leave fewer wounds than we inherited.
They are watching,
learning how to be human from us.
And the least we can do
is make the lesson worth remembering.
JH
Julan62 