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I have an adopted daughter who is a different race than the rest of our family. She grew up in a school district where she was a minority, and since she and her sister (my biological daughter) were only a year apart in age, I often witnessed clerks and waitresses treating them differently, which I hated. My daughter had a rare gift for seeing past that and winning people over with her vivacious and loving personality.
She was not yet five, chocolate brown eyes
Wide in curious observation but internally shielded
Lashes acting like bars keeping danger out, secrets in.
But one shared love of Barney and hands joined, defenses yielded.
Hungry for love like a starved, beaten pup
Afraid that the ones offering it would take it away
But loving her was easy like the silly tales she spun
And my heart swelled in pregnant pulchritude each day.
Being different isn't easy, it takes a special kind of strength
That boldly dares the bigot to take their strongest swings
She was stronger still, carrying barbs open wounds
But loving in the way humanity brings.
A woman now, and beautiful of face and heart and soul
I love her fiercely with all I have within
She is my daughter born of my heart, not born from in my loins
But the blessing is she's grown to be my friend.
Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2016
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