April 30,2006
We are the instruments of history, and brave,
sometimes foolish blood has been shed to this end.
We are all of a certain time and a place, and then not.
Therefore, this poem, awash in history, in and out
of history, mourns our losses,but celebrates us—
all races, peoples, nations, identities dignified.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem