What do I leave behind?
The heritage of a world set free,
or the skins swollen from
knife-steal and bone dust?
From mouth to mouth,
the long nights of
hatred will end.
And sad stinging words
will matter no more.
What will be left?
One man, one woman,
one child and a new humanity.
A little beauty,
from this ugliness.
A Wandering Poet 