Silvona

Her name was Silvona, a child with tender eyes. She deserved a home of kindness, not terror in disguise. He raised his hands without mercy And filled her heart with fear, While her brother stood there helpless, Still remembering every tear. My sister had a name — it was never what he called her. She was never his cruel words, never less because he harmed her. She was someone’s little sister, a soul deserving love. Her name was Silvona, and she was always enough. He tried to make her feel unworthy, Tried to take her dignity. But the ugliness belonged to him; It was never hers to keep. Years may pass, but somewhere inside The frightened child remains, Waiting for a loving voice To call her by her name. Silvona, I am sorry for the suffering you knew. I was only a child beside you; I could not rescue you. But if my voice can reach that girl still hiding from those days, I will stand beside her now and gently speak her name. My sister has a name — no one can take it from her. She survived the hands that hurt her and the words meant to dishonor. She was never what he called her; that shame was never hers. Her name is Silvona — let that be what the whole world hears. Two children lived through darkness, Two hearts remember pain. Today her brother weeps for her And gives her back her name.