Not martyr--the Cause!
She must not die!
Cannot break her parents' hearts--
Back home! (She sees them now!)
If only they knew
How she had grown!
They would understand
This other love that held her now
In place, this love of home and place,
And the Other,
Of the faces, the voices, the laughter...
Olive groves and sun-scented skin;
The love she'd found for dispossessed:
Children, fathers, mothers--also of her,
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