In a casket for two

Wherever she goes,
I follow.
It doesnt matter to me,
the color of your skin,
the name my tongue distorts,
the passport, power, and
reputation bestowed on youor stripped away.

Have you played with a sick child?
Planted a tree in a waste land?
Banadged a soldier's wounds?
Fed a hungry grandfather?

The world as we both know it
will change tomorrow,
perhaps the day after.
The oppressor and the oppressed
will look the same,
tomorrow, or the day after.
Those who designed the nerve gas,
will also take the last of breaths.

You- have you lit a candle
or decided that some deserve darkness.
You-shut the doorwatching the last of light,
taking the last of breath
the last of name, accent and skin color.
And, she looks at the last of human race,
following you, in the casket made for two,
as was in the beginning, and now sealed for eternity.