I know how easily
the word "just"
can erase a wound
for everyone except the one carrying it.
So I move gently now.
I place my footsteps like apologies.
I soften my voice before it can become too loud.
I close cupboards without a sound.
I fold my anger into tiny corners,
like tears I never let anyone see.
When something falls nearby,
my heart still startles
as though every loud noise
is about to become someone's blame.
When people grow quiet,
I search their faces for storms.
When they sigh,
I prepare myself for rain.
Maybe that's why
I cannot bear to watch anything small suffer.
Not the bird with the broken wing.
Not the stray dog searching for shade.
Not the spider trapped in the sink.
Not the tiny ant beneath someone's hurried footsteps.
I apologize to chairs
when I bump into them.
To doors
when I close them too hard.
To my clothes
when I pull at them carelessly.
Yesterday I stepped on an COCKROACH
-Ps. Ok sorry it was ANT-
I stood there far longer than I needed to,
staring at the tiny still body beside my shoe
as if someone small
had simply been trying to find their way home.
"It's just an ant," they say.
Just a glass.
Just a mistake.
Just a joke.
Just a child.
But I know what "just" can do.
I know how easily
one small word
can make someone's pain disappear
for everyone except the one feeling it.
So I choose my words carefully.
And if I love too deeply...
if I apologize too often...
if I cry over the smallest things...
it's because somewhere inside me,
there is still a little girl
waiting to discover
that kindness
doesn't always have to be earned.