Can you see the hunger written on the faces of the people?
They are mute.
They cannot see themselves,
And no one breaks the code of silence.
Let the dead bones lie in their graves.
The gettysburgs, the teaparties in boston, the morning stroll of
the Blacks to lincoln’s shrine—they are over.
Let dead men lie.

“No, no do not wipe away the tears.
We should never have shed them.