Satish Verma


Nowheres


Attending to my laments, 
reading a poem to myself 
I could not foresee an incoming missile. 
 

 
How could you change the world 
when a black and white magpie 
writes the script of life? 
 

 
A god once told me 
in whispers, he wants to 
die in the shadeless sun.



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