He was still paying the price
for ultimate unbending.
Before the black icon locked the waves
to start tremors for an apolitical murder.
He took the call and stood straight,
stopped the melodrama of drinking the venom
and became larger than death.
This is the story of a common man,
who remained silent, went on looking
for the invisible marks on the ornamental sword
carved after every farewell to the severed
head of another clan.
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 18th, 2013 22:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: ☼ G U E R R E R O ☼
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