WHEN CHILDHOOD LEARNS THE WEIGHT OF RAIN

 

(For Juvenile Arthritis Awareness Month)

There is something sacred about watching a child run.

The careless laughter.

The untied shoelaces.

The knees stained with dust.

The little hands reaching for butterflies

as though the whole world

had been created simply for play.

That is how childhood should be; light enough

to forget the time,

brave enough

to believe every tomorrow

will arrive carrying another adventure.

Yet for some children,

the morning begins differently.

Their tiny fingers

hesitate before they close around a spoon.

Their knees bargain with each step.

Their ankles whisper,

"Not so fast today."

And while the world

expects them to race,

their bodies are busy

negotiating with pain.

It is a quiet kind of suffering.

Not loud enough

to stop the sun from rising.

Not visible enough

to silence the playground.

Many will look at them

and see only a child.

Few will notice

the courage hidden

inside every careful movement,

every smile offered

despite aching joints,

every game they join

even when their bodies

are asking them to rest.

How unfair it seems

that hands made for colouring books

must also learn resilience.

That little shoulders

meant to carry schoolbags

must carry discomfort

far older than they are.

Still,

children have a remarkable way

of teaching the world

what hope looks like.

They laugh

before pain has the chance

to introduce itself.

They dream

without asking permission

from tomorrow.

They remind us

that strength

does not always arrive

with loud voices.

Sometimes,

it wears tiny shoes

and holds a favourite teddy bear.

So let us become

the adults they deserve.

The teachers

who notice.

The friends

who wait instead of rushing ahead.

The doctors

who listen.

The parents

whose embrace says,

"You do not have to be brave every minute.

You are allowed to rest here."

Awareness begins

when we stop measuring pain

by what our eyes can see.

Not every battle

wears a bandage.

Not every wound

bleeds.

Some live quietly

inside growing bones,

patient little joints,

and brave young hearts

that continue to choose joy

again and again.

To every child

living with juvenile arthritis;

May your tomorrows

be gentler than your yesterdays.

May medicine continue

to discover kinder answers.

May your dreams

never shrink

to the size of your pain.

And may the world

learn to celebrate

not only the children

who run the fastest,

but also the ones

who teach us,

one careful step at a time,

that courage

sometimes walks slowly,

yet never stops

moving forward.