Poetry

Let us not cry for the fallen statue.
he is still alive and writing his own epitaph.
Eagles sitting on tall branches
will wait for the prey.

Why did he fake for a genius
running the lives of millions
toward the gates of heaven?

Do you think the quality of question marks will suffer
when answers remain incarcerated
in a system with flawed satisfaction?

I am going to die of shame
being only a bystander, in this bleak times.
Every day a murder of a blue chorus
is being announced.

Let me sing a new tugging anthem
sweet in my heart
harsh on my tongue.

Tonight a full moon will make me weightless
and I will be orbiting like an earth
around a burning name.


Satish Verma