None can choose their origin,
If they could, billions of families would have died childless.
I remember walking by one in the graveyard
May 9 1950 to April 18 2011
The newborns scream and cry when life only first begins.
I remember a young soul disturbed by the noise from the streets in Prague
and the tears in a letter unsent to his father,
and the sea that embraced the lonely ship sailing away
in the strident, stormy dawn
according to the prayers of the drunken sailor.
And remembered are the faces of the wise—
Every one, every single one of them
Who grew exhausted, and bought a ticket
to leave this world behind
And fools alone are the ones that remain.