OF PERSONAL GOD

Ready to dismember the red geraniums 
rains had no mercy. 
Thunder did not show any preference 
and hails had felled the pride 
of tall grass. 

Denuded, the hungry man 
walked towards liberty. 
Moral tapestry in scape after scape 
cried, 
the mystery endured the cradle – 

Of personal god. 
But I bled my truth in wilderness 
to impose the religion, 
of a non-believer, 
for obedience to natural laws. 

Talking to divine 
brings relief. The direct, face to face 
confrontation, for a twig of faith. 
I pick up the seeds 
for the sake of eternity.

Satish Verma