Poetry

Satish Verma


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10 august 2023

Empty Bowls

Standing alone
in darkness of stairwell
searching light.

You were not immortal
I had lost my speech
in my pain's birth.

Why it had to
happen, altering the genes
of unborn progeny?

I miss my divine
peace. You say nothing.
Space between nights shrinks.

We were scared.
Sun was hiding. I re-send
my prayer. Never pick
the meaning.






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