For everyone. Everything.

The flower of the word will not die. The face that today has a name may die, but the word that came from the depth of history and the earth can no longer be cut by power’s arrogance. We were born of the night. We live in the night. We will die in her. But tomorrow the light will be for others, for all those who today weep at the night, for those who have been denied the day, for those whom death is a gift, for those who are denied life. The light will be for all of them. For everyone, everything. For us pain and anguish, for us the joy of rebellion, for us a future denied, for us the dignity of insurrection. For us, nothing.