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

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