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As a girl you were a dancer,
and you told me once,
"you have to learn to fall."
Was that the only lesson that stuck?
Can't you remember the joy
of a pirouette,
the strength in a plié?

All these years you've taught
me nothing but how to fall.
That isn't the whole truth;
from you I learned the beauty
of duty and sacrifice
and all the ways a word
can be twisted and transformed.

You were taught how to fall
and you've spent your whole life
plummeting, perhaps not gracefully.
I wish I could teach you how to rise.