I wrote this a while ago and was meaning to finish it but life happened. Today I saw the draft again, sadly the moment has passed and I can’t recover my thoughts anymore. Instead of ‘trying’ to finish it, I thought I’ll leave it the way it is…
Kyekudo scattered like dust in the Ganges
no one has the time to hang around in a hospice.
The frozen earth hardly heaves a sigh
unlike the broken wombs of crying mothers.
The vacant sky offers no possibilities
and the night will stay for a long while…
but you must not forget how to sing
for songs were made for times like these.