Still radiant, a new born babe, I pointed to the light,  
And that poor girl, my mother, arose in darkest night.  
She carried me out of the shabby house, past the boarded stores;  
Past the burning church, the neglected crops,  
Onto a highway and a big bright store,  
Where people ran or dragged along from floor to floor.  
Here my mother kissed me, and wrapped me in her shawl,  
And laid me on the counter displaying Barbie Dolls.