I wake the next morning to Ella crying. Kissing Rayah's forehead, I open my eyes and stand. I yawn as I walk down to her room, scooping my youngest daughter up and checking on the twins.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself. — Dietrich Bonhoeffer