When I played with dolls,
It was a nightmare tale
Of scars and evil.
Met with compassion and curiosity,
Before I could define those words.
My sister woke me up at night when she was afraid
And I couldn’t give her the comfort she sought
Just as accomplishment is not linear,
Life is not a hallelujah at every character’s end
And I’ve always heard song in the rhythm of getting up again.11