Poetry

Heart’s ache is getting worse everyday. 
May be I go out in this brutal world 
Of scuttling lies to seek the one 
who left the body to trace the wound. 
 
A red hibiscus enters my room from the window 
and smiles at me. 
Outside clumsy blasts are ripping apart 
the tranquil day. 
I wrench the emotions out of the poem 
for the big mouthed kindness 
which sprays the bullets. 
 
Terror strikes suddenly on the swollen ankles 
We do not know the cure. 
No foreign hand will help, 
No foreign face will smile. 
I have to go for inward journey 
My lips will kiss the condemned.