A Reflection on Child Marriage and Stolen PotentialShe was twelve,With dreams tall as the sky. No one asked her a single time, How she felt about this lie.She could have had a chalk and board, To draw her dreams afloat; To learn the rivers, learn the lines, Aiming to reach the stars up high.But she is just a toy to sell— For her family, a bargaining chip. Her worth is counted, time and again, Just to gain a dime.Her freedom is bound, Her childhood is lost; Beneath the heavy veil, And the forced, silent thought.She walks toward a life She never agreed to, Past the schoolhouse doors She will never return to.We call it "culture," We call it "honor." But I ask you a single question: Why is her childhood yours to barter?She is not a contract, She is not a gift. She is a living woman With vast dreams to fulfill.No tradition is worth more Than the future She holds.Author’s Note: This poem serves as a call to action against the systemic practice of child marriage. It highlights the intersection of poverty and patriarchy, where a young girl's agency is sacrificed at the altar of "tradition." We must prioritize the classroom over the contract.