Mourning Kanjikaa

The first night: flour is spilt on the floor Perhaps she’ll come She will come – She will come and leave a footprint Perhaps we’ll sleep We will sleep – We will sleep all through our mourning Perhaps she’ll see She will see – She will never see us again Perhaps we’ll tear We will tear We will tear out our hair Perhaps she’ll stop She will stop She will stop halfway Perhaps we’ll forget We will forget We will forget ourselves in grief