Satish Verma
Speaking Stones
When there was a cloudburst―
it was time― I thought
for the soul search.
Again I turn back to―
our complexity, in religion,
caste and lineage.
The prairie was giving―
way, for a volcano to erupt.
Can there be a drive from the back seat?
A prisoner of one's own
follies, you would wait till―
the sky comes down and liberates you.
The illegitimacy bursts
open, when you claim that
no child was left behind.
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