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.


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