TALE-BEARER

They were counting the bullets and bodies. 
The severed limbs were twitching. Sometimes to go back 
to their owners, 
but the faceless torso selects a bush to hide the remains. 
The leaves are falling on the make shift home of death. 

It is time to know 
who will judge the color of oozing blood? 
Red, brown or black? ? 

In rapt attention I can see a carnivore 
without carnality there is a beauty of kill 
a splurge of energy and game. 
No hate, no envy, no greed. 
It is not violence! It is nature! ! 
What you are doing with a charred face? 
Changing the features of earth? 
A little bit here, a little bit there 
My tears will tell the tale.

Satish Verma