Mandalay On Our Minds
Many sleep never to dance again,
by Sarah Mkhonza
taken at the spitting of bullets,
firing into the crowd.
One goes down near another, for
fire and hail come and keep coming.
The bullet proof sky has yielded
to this volley, this mystery wild.
Some go down, some yell at others
to get under cover. Cover or no cover
it happens. The stampede as death
calls them by name. Unheard in blasts
that steal soul after soul.
This Mandalay shooting leaves us dry
for our eyes have emptied into
bloody floors endlessly as gun man
after gun man creates fame for his
ego with our loved ones.
They are gone and we hug the pain in
the space where we used to hold them
in a cuddle. Death is cruel when inflicted
at a concert for we cease to dance and
wait for this song of sadness to pass.
When flowers wither at the shrine if rememberance, we must begin to dance,
in memory of those who will dance no more.
We owe them a big bash. Death can be mocked.