Martin Luther King Jr.
Perhaps death is a metaphor to remind us of a secret of life we failed to notice.
And I have vowed To fashion from my eyelashes a kerchief, And upon it to embroider verses for your eyes, And a name, when watered by a heart that dissolves in chanting, Will make the sylvan arbours grow.
I will wait for the rest.
The loss of their home was devastating.
I learnt all the words and broke them up To make a single word: Homeland.