Listen, no one signed up for this lullaby. No bleeped sheep or rosebuds or twitching stars will diminish the fear or save you from waking
into the same day you dreamed of leaving—mockingbird on back order, morning bells stuck on snooze—so you might as well
get up and at it, pestilence be damned. Peril and risk having become relative, I’ll try to couch this in positive terms:
Never! is the word of last resorts, Always! the fanatic’s rallying cry. To those inclined toward kindness, I say
Come out of your houses drumming. All others, beware: I have discarded my smile but not my teeth.
--Rita Dove
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