Poetry

You had dug in deep
to undo the garden.
Civil war started
between the yawning wounds.

Whose side was time:
in burning well of oil?
The autocracy will bleed
the earth till death.

An island in the canal
holds the ship of man.
For whom flows the river
in smouldering woods of hate?

Each matter, antimatter,
circles around the world,
trembles under the eyelids
and asks for a name.


Satish Verma