A Chronicle by Beatriz Esmer

They say poverty is a thief—it steals comfort, opportunity, even dignity. But in one forgotten corner of the city, where cracked pavement meets rusted tin roofs, I met a child who defied that theft with nothing but laughter.

She was no older than seven, barefoot and radiant, her joy unfiltered by the weight of want. Her world was stitched together from scraps: a broken sandal became a doll’s cradle, a bent spoon her magic wand. The alley was her kingdom, and the sun her spotlight. She danced between puddles as if they were oceans, chased butterflies like they were dreams she could catch and keep.

I watched her from the edge of my own abundance. My shoes clean, my stomach full, my phone buzzing with trivial complaints. I flinched at a crude word someone muttered nearby, as if offense were the greatest injustice I could endure. But the child—she didn’t flinch at words. She flinched at thunder, at the growl of her belly, at the silence that followed when her mother had no answer to give.

And still, she laughed.

Her laughter echoed off the crumbling walls, a melody that mocked our selective sensitivities. We, the privileged, recoil at discomfort but remain silent when hatred festers. We scroll past injustice, mute the cries of the oppressed, and call it self-care. But what of the child who finds joy in a world that offers her so little?

She taught me something that day—not with words, but with the rhythm of her resilience. That happiness is not the fruit of abundance, but the flower that blooms in barren soil. That empathy must rise above offense, and compassion must drown out condemnation.

So I write this not as a sermon, but as a witness. Let us shed our fragility like old skin. Let us be outraged not by vulgarity, but by hunger, by hatred, by the quiet cruelty of indifference. Let us build a world where every child’s laughter rings louder than any profanity, where joy is not a rebellion but a birthright.

And when we forget, let us remember her—barefoot, laughing, chasing butterflies in the shadows of scarcity. 🙏🏾❤️