It wasn't a lie.
On that hilltop when you took my 6 year old hand in yours.
Saying, "My father said you were lying, but I believe you."
My heart swelled with tears and guilt,
That crazy story about the wicked parents hurting their children.
My heart swelled with hope. You heard me.
I know what it is to have one's truth trampled and denied.
Is that why I dare to trust to often?
If so, perhaps I can, one day,
Forgive myself for being too kind.