Poetry

the solid rock,
from its tallest perch
was tumbling down, after navel – gazing –
in songs of darkness; had the hidden
aloofness in space and time,

i have become a tree, intend to teach
the truth of roots; eating the body
of gods, one prayer changes the fright

of depth, meanwhile you become the ethnic wait

in sprawling riots, the inside of ire was
very red; screams, bends, shakes, takes away
emotional blackmail, hairs standing like

candles burning, the conditioning was over –

in granite falls, it was rain of tears on
flames of freedom at the street, a crowd
becomes a large leaf swaying on the waves of a red
river, flowing sensuously in a young city


Satish Verma