you heave a sigh. 
In peril, mother of peace? 

Real threat 
to ice lingam? the Creator? 
Falling apart? 

Cat’s claw was not healing. 
Where the greens will go? 
The pods, the seeds? 

Tara, Tara! 
come again, 
we are waiting on the hills. 

Glaciers were shrinking- 
rivers are sad 
and trees are weeping.

Satish Verma


  • baj-a

    your poetry humbles me! you writings are only what I can dream and aspire to accomplish some day. so beautiful and gentle and yet so powerful.

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