Sadly, I will not call this a poem
This is a memento
From the archives of 08/08/19
For it is now history
Death escorts us back from the hospital
Shares mama’s bed with her
We all gather around keeping her company
Right there at 3am
She breathes her last
Gnashing teeth
Clenching fists
Gasping for breath
Shutting eyes
It’s been sobs since yesterday
Sonorous sounds
We thought she was sleeping
Till now, she hasn’t woken up
I guess the lullaby we sang lured her to sleep forever
Now, each of Dada’s eye has a bag swollen with tears
If only she told us she was not comfortable in her skin
We would have peeled off the old layer to make her breathe & live again
So, we built a church in the home
Where we weave an orchestra of cries
Sneaking out of the window into the lonely street
Cords vibrating in unison
Hallowing mama’s corpse
Same body we put in bed early
Was now referred to as late
Sending signals to every passerby
We have more worshippers now
Preaching about fortitude
Singing a new song
Unfortunately, I have lost my voice