The power of a child is immeasurable.
They can make the strongest of us melt with their happiness
or rage at their pain.
Never do we become more vulnerable than when we must decide against ourself
to be for our child.
Atticus struggled.
Would he have chosen to fight for his moral code or choose to shelter his children from impending atrocities in a hate filled world?
But the power of the child, that same child that can bring those that love them to their knees, can also make us look inside ourselves.
We may not always like the image their mirror reflects.
A child's innocence, untainted by prejudice and pain is the most powerful force of nature.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem