Stairs In Her Hair by Amal El-Mohtar

There is a girl with a stair in her hair
made of thorn and thistle and bone.
There is a girl with a stair in her hair
and she climbs it to be alone.

There is a girl with a coin in her fist
made of breath and hunger and cold.
There is a girl with a coin in her fist
who buys whatever she's sold.

A girl with a voice and a girl with a name
a girl with strong hands and eyes like the rain
a girl who's too young and too easy to bruise
a girl with nothing to lose, oh
a girl with nothing to lose.

Here is a girl with a stone on her tongue
plucked from a wave on the shore.
Here is a girl with a stone on her tongue
that keeps her from asking for more.

Here is a girl with a key in her palm
and here is a door with a lock.
Here is a girl with a key in her palm
wondering if she should knock.

A girl with a voice and a girl with a name
a girl with strong hands and eyes like the rain
a girl who knows all of her lines and her cues
a girl with nothing to lose, oh
a girl with nothing to lose.

I am a girl with a stair in my hair.
I climb it to be alone.
I am a girl with nothing to share
but thorns and thistle and bone.

I am a girl with a coin in my fist
but I have learned to be bold.
I am a girl who will never be missed
if she's borrowed or broken or sold.

I am a girl with a voice and a name
a girl with strong hands and eyes like the rain
a girl who can fight and a girl who can choose
a girl with so much to lose, oh
a girl with so much to lose.

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