Poetry

Leaving the stains behind
I am moving to a new home
O mother
to wear the sun.

The black moon
had been stalking me for years
O mother
for a pink romance lifting the clouds.

Though, I will not come back
ever, in the valley of skins
O mother
yet I will remember your beloved night.

Nebulous was the transit
to sleep without beds.
O mother
How long these protests will continue?

Satish Verma