CONTRAST

Afraid of each other 
we are hiding from farewell. 
At stake was our nest, 
you did not want to leave. 

I think of kissing the dead eyes 
of a phoenix, 
I am a flame and I am ash. 
The clouds will come as a curse. 

Scissors: your lips had tormented me. 
Why are we separating the grains? 
transparent hurts? 
Something we did not want to say? 

A parting gift of silence 
will haunt the blind memories. 
I am walking on the rough terrain. 
You are sailing in the sky.

Satish Verma