THE PRESENCE

The hawk was landing. 
Squinting at the urgent need 
of slaughter and hope – 

among the frightened hunger 
of truth, of running feet 
in the tall grass. 

A world apart in 
seeking the reality of 
dying for earthly love. 

I was not sure of 
the manifesto of bricks and 
stones falling on evergreen kisses.

Satish Verma