Letter From a Childless Catlady:

I know you want to be protectors

for your sons and your daughters.

I see how cute toddlers are as they grow,

as they learn to talk, run and flow,

As they become more and more refined,

And chase you down the trail of time.

I feel the power of the awe in their expressions,

And the wonder in their curious questions,

The pull of their laughter and giggling eyes,

The fear and terror in their screams and cries.

But I also can feel the sheer weight

Of the innocence the world will take.

How can you promise to protect them

from injustices and the boogiemen?

How do you keep their dreams sweet,

How do you make their nightmares meek?

Their autonomy, their entire finite future,

is on the line right now, this minute and hour.

Will she be an equal? Will she have a profession?

Will she be outspoken? Will she have a passion?

Will she help make the world a better place?

Will she be lucky? Will she feel grace?

Will she have the confidence to be seen?

Will she have kindness to give when others are mean?

Will she have faith in strangers and what's above?

Will she find the right kind of love?

Is there a spell to boil, a prayer to pray,

A potion I can stir, a gemstone I can trade,

that can ensure she won't be trapped, endangered, hated?

Or made to feel small, belittled, degraded?

Would it kill me to foresee the ways she might suffer

Under this growing, toxic Trumper culture?

How many times will her heart shatter?

Will she have a voice and choice in things that matter?

Or will her life be diminished, controlled, bent,

by the cruel whims of men and billionaire intent?

..

Silence.

..

And this is why I'm an Aunt.