Poetry

I will make amends with me today,
stop fighting with myself.

Unthinkable to live without pain,
in war with suffering.

Quietly cries the flame without sound.
While night lingers on.

Nothing was easy for a quick resignation
of ephemeral tears.

Again love opens like a senile gash,
a chandelier suddenly crashing.

Going back to old city, blowing the limbs off
I will find my house.

Trying to search a clue to the colour of wound?
Catch my style.

I will remain in your thoughts for eternity.
Was not I your hoary past?


Satish Verma