One Word

On the banks of the Potomac at Mount Vernon rests the father of the American nation. Perhaps the thing most remarkable about his simple grave is that it is inscribed with only one word, "Washington". On that grassy knoll overlooking the city that bears his name, there is no need for words.

Often neither the abundance of words nor the craft with which they are used count as much as the last word.
And that word
is a name.

No matter what we own, no matter what we do or say,
the sum of it all and all that remains
is our good name.

For most a name is what we inherit from our fathers
and what we bequeath to our sons.

I chose my name.

My name is Ami, "my people". I was born a native son of that great nation, the United States America. It was there that I heard the call of a small and ancient people and followed to a land far away.

I haven't done much in my life, but I have become part of my people
and my people have become a part of me.

I haven't done much and I don't have much.
To my people I leave my children;
to my children I leave a name.

And for myself
I save a word.

On my grave
write Ami.

To most people it won't say much.
To those who knew me
it says it all.