Lovers of death were on prowl:
nothing was finished.Smart words
were bouncing back. Quotes by the fire
had stripped down the carnage. More
bombs in courtyard and hope was confronting
death. Few branded names were causing
rift in the ranks and I must forget
about the waterboarding too.
After the outrage you would not trust
them to govern themselves. The towns were
still sleeping accustomed to the knocks
on the doors. The water birds were not
coming this winter. Smoke and fire. Sound
and fury with flashbacks of flood of red streams.
I was tumbling down beyond challenge.
With message of menace they will do no wrong!
SATISH VERMA
SALT PLUNGED 17 January 2009
Seizing the fire after hidden sorrow
predicted the synchronized slaughter of
the river, bodies were being ditched
secretly. The sparkle of waves was murderous.
Blue wings of tall dangers dodged
between war and hatred. The golden
face of a child was smeared with blood.
You carry a moth to be burned on a flame.
The black rose hangs in balance,
against the red cross. A sea of white ants
was entering into a microchip to eat the
months of prayer. Nation’s crimes were
pinned for troops to turn the gold
into dust. Catch my hand if you grieve
for the lost mother carrying the child
of century for burial.
Satish Verma