TRAILING WAR

In search of peace 
the free hand was inflicting casualities. 
The kids were buried like insects in a rubble. 

Step by step in speculation 
the streets were livid with rustic murals 
of splintered blood on walls. 

The foxgloves had lobbed rockets 
on tall heads. Beleaguered 
eyes nailed to fire. 

I am watching you my art, 
to witness the agony of man. 
Burn, burn my cupped hands with snatched words.

Satish Verma