It is in the small things that we see it
The child's first step, as awesome as an earthquake
The first time you rode a bike, wallowing up the sidewalk
The first spanking, when your heart went on a journey all alone
When they called you crybaby, or poor, or fatty, or crazy
And made you into an alien
You drank their acid and you concealed it.

Later, if you faced the death of bombs and bullets,
You did not do it with a banner
You did it with only a hat to cover your heart.
You did not fondle the weakness inside you,
Though it was there.
Your courage was a small coal that you kept swallowing.

- From "Courage," by Anne Sexton