Poetry

Sometimes I imagine, I am free:
free to come out from a diagram,
to bring inside out.
Ultimately rescued from the ancestors,
and ready to face my unborn children.

An apparition sneaks in.
Transgender? Half human, half god?
There is no shadow, no existence,
but presence.

Life sometimes take a strange turn,
panic moves between the walls of home.
Black silk, red cloud, fish in the bowl.
I walk without feet, making dents in air.
wrapped up so long.


Satish Verma