Will they call your name?

They said there would be silence as they showed the pictures but the mournful music lingered. I know because I listened on the radio, their faces obscured by choice in technology, leaving violin swells. But I see them, sepia toned, faded into, on blogs and Facebook feeds. Anonymous names of former students, former children with dreams, sold out by their teachers who gave them few options. Immigrants chasing now chased and dead.