THE GOODBYE

A marble calm under the shaky gaze 
was parsing the human pain. I would 
lift the calculated grief from folded earth. 

You feel badly bruised and racial war 
becomes anathema. Past the age eyesight dwindles, 
cannot identify the faces of dead. 


O my God! Bizarred bloated eyes filled 
with blood were groping for the fallen walls. 
Who had dug the garden with grenades? 

A theme hunger separates the hearts. When 
desert was the bed for daughters and sons, 
the fathers were shaking with hate. 

The shine wears off the love. A different world 
under the lids. Miracle does not happen. 
We were searching for the doors.

Satish Verma