It Is Terrible How Much Has Been

It's A Wonder That Any Mother Ever Called A Daughter Dinah Again. But Some Did. Maybe You Guessed That There Was More To Me Than The Voiceless Cipher In The Text. Maybe You Heard It In The Music Of My Name: The First Vowel High And Clear, As When A Mother Calls To Her Child At Dusk; The Second Sound Soft, For Whispering Secrets On Pillows. Dee-nah.

They Sang The Words In Unison, Yet Somehow Created A Web Of Sounds With Their Voices. It Was Like Hearing A Piece Of Fabric Woven With All The Colors Of A Rainbow. I Did Not Know That Such Beauty Could Be Formed By The Human Mouth. I Had Never Heard Harmony Before.

I Got Nice Rejections Explaining That Historical Fiction Was A Difficult Sell. But I Kept Trying.

When A Shy Person Smiles, It’s Like The Sun Coming Out.

It Is Terrible How Much Has Been Forgotten, Which Is Why, I Suppose, Remembering Seems A Holy Thing.