My Rainbow Child

She wrapped herself in a rainbow and skipped down the sidewalk

not realizing the power and freedom behind those steps.

At almost eight years old, how could she?

She was but a baby, blossoming into a girl.

Still coming into herself and who she wants to be.

She is nearly ten now, understands a lot more than she used to,

but still not quite enough.

So I explain to her that those colors that she loves,

that hang from her windows and garnish her clothes and beloved toys,

they represent me

and my best friends

and my neighbors

and a whole lot of other people who hear words much worse than “Ew”

when telling others who they love and who they are.

They hear anger, resentment, and judgement in slurs and dismissals.

They hear disbelief, fear, and misdirection in the voices of those they trusted.

But darling child, you will never hear those words from me or that tone from my lips.

No matter who you love and who you are, so long as you are a kind, caring, and understanding individual

you will hear nothing but encouragement, respect, and pride when I speak to you.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet represent my freedom to be me without trepidation.

And I promise you I will fight until my last dying breath to ensure the same for you.