Poetry

Time sets upon the arcane taboos
you wear the unknown fear
like cowries around your neck,

a bulletproof jacket did not work,
the fish in the brain
was the religion.

Whom do you trust now
in the caveful of seekers? They were demanding
every dropp of your blood from a waning relic.

Climbing Mt Everest was a raw deal,
dismantling the heights
like plasma, as naked as the ice on unmarked grave.

Hyper-sided, the priest was confused
in repetition of a prayer,
and the floor trembled in uplifting the god.


Satish Verma