For Joretia: The Girl Who Watched Ants and Named the Hurt

A heartfelt poem honoring my golden-haired niece who saw deeply, felt profoundly, and chose kindness despite early emotional weight. Her quiet wisdom becomes a guiding light for others.

To the golden-haired soul who saw more than most and still chose kindness

You came into my arms light as breath, chubby-cheeked, soft-voiced, amused by the rasp of your cousin’s two-year-old squeal.

Back then, you’d fall asleep on me with ease, maybe because I held you like someone who wanted nothing from you. Just peace. Just presence.

You watched ants. You bowed in Korean to elders who shared your birthday. You studied lizards, butterflies, the way some children study cartoons, as if the smallest things could teach you what adults kept failing to.

You weren’t raised on false innocence. You felt things too soon: accusations from adults, stories twisted in other people’s favor, truth turned into rebellion just because it came from you.

But I saw you when your voice broke past the silence. When you told me why you felt like the root of all messes, as if being honest made you guilty.

Baby girl, you didn’t break anything. You only named what was already cracked.

You taught Kalina when no one else could. You calmed her, coached her, as if understanding came wrapped in your own pain.

And when the men in your world held their softness on mute, and the women bore storms behind walls, you became the quiet thunder, the one who wouldn’t lie to make things easier.

You’re still growing. You’re still learning when to step back, when to speak, when to heal out loud.

But know this: your rebellion was never disrespect; it was the scream truth makes when it’s tired of being buried.

And when you need space, when the past breathes too loudly at the dinner table, when the ones who wronged you pretend not to remember,

I’ll remember. I’ll carry you, like I did before, no matter how big the world makes you.

Because even now, you are still my golden-headed girl who once bowed like a student and stood like a storm.

Author's Note

This poem is a tribute to quiet courage and inherited tenderness. It reflects the story of a young girl whose emotional sensitivity and clarity challenged the narratives around her—and who, in doing so, began to carve out her own truth. Readers are invited to witness not just her pain, but her profound empathy and gentle defiance. If you’ve ever watched someone grow into wisdom they shouldn’t have needed so soon, this piece may resonate.