Poetry

He was very thin, half naked, one arm
broken, glasses cracked.
Early morning an owlet will land over its head
And give a long hoot.

The bleary eyes will look down non-chalantly
on browsing goats at its feet. I will see a twinkle
in the eyes.

A cave man, or Buddha! I loved your brazenness
cat walking alone on the spiky path of truth,
drinking goat’s milk and raising cotyledons
of guiltless faith.

Post-traumatic, I squeeze your feet.
Any reincarnation in future? Any divine intervention?


Satish Verma