Because They Are Teenagers         ©mairo

Because they are teenagers,
they arrive unfinished,
with hands still wet from the clay of becoming.

They walk fast,
trip often,
and swear the ground moved first.

They feel everything at once—
joy like thunder,
shame like a locked room,
anger like a match struck in the dark.

Because they are teenagers,
they sometimes speak before they listen,
act before they understand,
and blame the mirror
for what they are not ready to face.

This is not defiance—
it is confusion wearing a loud jacket.
This is not disrespect—
it is fear asking the wrong questions.

So let parents and caregivers remember:
guidance is not control,
discipline is not rejection,
and love does not shout to be heard.

Be the calm when their storms rise.
Be the pause between reaction and regret.
Be the open door
when the world feels too narrow.

Because they are teenagers,
they do not need perfection.
They need patience.
They do not need fear.
They need understanding.

And one day,
when they stand steady in their own names,
they will remember
who made room for them
while they were still learning how to stand.

©mairo

Mandela

The Sky Was Grey

Grey Sky, Bright Ground

The sky was grey,
as it often is on a sad day,
heavy with unspilled rain,
clouds rehearsing grief.

Yet below,
laughter leaked through cracked pavements,
faces bloomed despite the weather,
and hope refused its cue to hide.

The sky wore mourning,
but the earth chose colour.
Feet kept dancing,
voices kept rising,
life kept insisting on itself.

So yes—
the sky was grey,
but all was gay,
and that is all I can say:

sometimes joy does not wait
for permission from the heavens.