It is icy up here
And the night has been long
I haven’t heard cheer
Or the little bird’s song
The dark makes it colder
Oh, the shadows of night
I’m not seeing gladness
Or the little bird’s flight

How do I wish morning
Would make itself known
When eyes would peer out
From the tucked-in, hushed home
They’d see me, and smile
Oh, how bright it becomes
When the little bird sings
At the sight of the sun

Then with the warmth
And with the glow
I become water
When once I was snow
I fall from this branch
But all the way down
I’ll see the bird dance
And hear its sweet sound


There are some things that we have not shared with another
The things that make different, us one from the other
They boiled our blood, they changed us within
So that never would we be back where we had been

There are images we cannot ever unsee
Where not just my pain made the breathing less free
But others broke too, and their grief did strike me
So that nothing the same, no not ever, would be