I’m number two in line, but the first daughter born,
To a crowded house where the walls are tired and worn.
Six of us in total, and a mountain of unpaid bills,
Watching Mom and Dad try to climb these endless hills.
Our home is poor, the kind where every penny has a ghost,
And being the eldest girl means I have to carry the most.
The expectations sit like stones upon my chest
A perfect daughter, sister, student, always at my best.
The younger ones are watching how I walk and how I stand,
While I try to hold my heavy world with just a trembling hand.
They see me as the anchor, the one who cannot break,
So I wear a smile for everyone, for everybody’s sake.
I pour myself into the books, the late-night glowing screen,
Striving for a future that this family hasn’t seen.
To be the first with a degree, a teacher in the making,
To heal the generational cycle that is breaking.
If I can graduate, I’ll pave a brand new track,
And bring a little light to the dark rooms we left back.
But behind the sturdy face I show when I’m awake,
Are the silent midnight battles and the bones that start to ache.
Alone here in my dorm room, away from all the noise,
I lose the brave appearance and the steady, quiet voice.
I pull the blanket tight and let the heavy tears just fall,
Muffling my sobs against the cold, unyielding wall.
I look into the mirror and I doubt the things I know,
Wondering if I’m smart enough to make this promise grow.
I whisper down to God, through the shaking and the fear,
“Please give me strength to finish, please tell me You are here.”
Because my faith is fragile and my shoulders feel so small,
And I’m terrified of slipping and disappointing them all.
Yet morning comes again, and I wipe away the strain,
Remembering the reason why I’m swallowing the pain.
For the five who walk behind me, for the debts we have to pay,
I’ll find a way to stand and face another heavy day.
The first to hold the parchment, the one who cleared the view
The daughter who was tired, but somehow made it through.
