Death ain’t nothin’ but a song
my mother moved out of her body
decided it was no longer worthy
it couldn’t contain her laughter.
couldn’t obey the house-rules of human.
her spirit, that young and fresh fever,
wanted to call the night her dance club.
wanted to try on new clothes,
stay out later.
my mother now wears the world.
dresses herself with the tall grass.
blushes her cheeks with red clay.
she laughs and a forest fire awakes.
she laughs & every mountain bows to her sharp thunder.
she laughs and each cicada begins to sing.
last night, Saint Paul was cloaked in steam.
fog traveled from some distant heat.
no, I think. you’ve got it all wrong. some
one must have asked my mother to dance
දිනමිණ- වසත් සුළඟ 19/09/2017