Poetry

Why you think of reversing the wheels
when life has stopped moving?
The time has fled from your hands
and settled on the body of death.
You are not intact and whole inside.

Where the path betrayed us?
Broken windows let in the dirt, smut and
heat.
The winter will be harsh, barren and cold
One by one swallows have departed.

The pain in neck does not go
an astringent blast overpowers
you become giddy, stagger for a while
and then become blind.

Your tragedy is mine, we suffer
for the sake of light.

Satish Verma