Tiny Circles

I pluck her
This tiny girl who looks like me
I pluck her from the giant fortress of a tree house
She squeals and squirms for freedom
This little girl in a red dress
Tiny feet on green grass
Yellow hair cropped short
Almond blue eyes of my sister

I pluck her
From stereotypes and oppression
From hatred and bigotry her world doesn’t contain
Where her smile
Her walk
Her skin color
Her voice
Are subjected to a goliath’s views of femininity

I pluck her
From saving she doesn’t need
Where strength that has yet to come will gather her
In its embrace and protect her.
Unconditional love is all she has ever known
Will ever know with my last breath and beat of heart

I pluck her
Like a parent who wishes she could choose a child the way an owner chooses a puppy
Guarding her from rejection and heartache
Allowing her to grow
And breathe
And simply be free in the moment
Allowing her tiny world to exist gigantically in laugher
And love
And silly spinning circles
Before she ages and grows and expands her mind outside of herself

I pluck her
To render her free of concepts and chains placed on her wrists
To fight so she may persist and conquer and love whoever she wants
Whenever she wants
Without consequence
To never wonder if her parents had the choice,
Would they have picked a different daughter?
Would they have looked into eyes of another child and seen a better one than her?
Given the choice would her parents still pick her?
Be drawn to her?

I pluck her from these thoughts
I give her my heart and my word
I will choose you
I will always choose you
This tiny girl with yellow-cropped hair
Who mimics laughter
Who shares her world of imagination
No matter the times
Or circumstances
Or perils
Unconditionally
I will pluck her from her fortress
Set her onto the green grass
And watch the earth quake with love.