satishverma

AUBRURN DAWN

I believe, I had not arrived 
when you were arbitrating 
between naked steel and the truth. 
Violence were you. I was watching 
the burning pyres in a row. Small hands 
were collecting the ashes, 
casting glances on the falcons. 

Why reincarnation of the reaper again and again 
arching the helpless life in terror? 
Half-filled cups of tears are spilled 
on the marbled smoke. 
We made the truce with slaughter 
in moonlight pitying the survivors in sun. 
The face watching from the window disappears. 

An auburn dawn wakes with swollen eyes. 
I might find a lost child of the empty womb – 
wandering in wilderness of three dimensional sorrow. 
O mother! somewhere the roots are waiting!

Satish Verma