Love will last past us.
How I have rushed with flowers
in my hands towards love.
How I have known love as healing, love as
a manifest of God as Healer.
If you have a wound, love comes and will
place balm there, bandage you against inequity.
Love will always last beyond hate.
Hate even hates itself.
Hates discounts its every day.
Hate starves itself away.
And, for this we should be glad.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem