Poetry

I begin unlearning
the script, in irreality,
find myself

my shadow in intermission
envelops the virtue
peak of sorrow, silence of space,

give your hand, within clarity
of reason, inner globe
of light, your kiss melts.

A water lily grows
in my palm, full of tears,
a terror strikes on thumb

like a dismembered limb
a veiled moon walks in night
to reach home.

The sun will find the road empty!


Satish Verma