He spoke for his people
Maintained their history
In dispelling the myths of old
His house had been made sacrosanct
Jukeboxes jewelry and trophies
Adorned the long corridor
The large Jackson Pollock that hung above the mantle
Reminded him how
we were all random strokes on a canvas
fighting for space
He whispered in Latin
“Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae.”
Which meant “Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death”
The hand on his cane then tightened.