Homo sapiens have killed
Their God.
They stand beneath the cross,
Doubting the finality
Of their achievement.
Their crime troubles them.
A detective inside them reminds
All crimes can be uncovered.
History carries this unease.
The guilty unable to mourn,
Suffocate and complicate all things.
The killer’s psyche is born and reborn
Again and again.
Now, the deed is done.
They fear the body that remains.
Customs dictates the mother’s prerogatives
Over the dead and the wounded.
Mother receives her son’s body
Tenderly.
Here maternity confronts
All types of modernity
And demonstrates killing was no victory
And is devoid of finality.
Basil Fernando
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