Poetry

Unimpeachable,
the shrine wants to move on
with snippets of pain.
Man has failed the god.

Teats were becoming omnivorous
devouring the faces, ears and eyes.
What would you like to eat
stings or thorns?

The curt bruises. Are you ready
for the horses? The journey is long
and tough to reach the citadel of truth.
My hands are already bleeding.

The betrayals. The foxes. The hyenas, but
one love tigers. The majesty of kill.
Why you are hiding the pen?
Moon is riding on the church.


Satish Verma