THE TEAR OF THINGS

The panther goes for the neck only. 
A body trembles on the stairs. 
Scarred bones are strewn around in 
the broad day light. 

I sometimes hear a wailing sound. 
Here lies the scarf, the coat, the shoes. 
A nation is rambling in dark 
woods. Faces have become stones. 

No longer, the illustrious suffering will help. 
How to judge the verdict? 
Defence is proving the guilt, 
and desert shouts a single 
name. 
How many meanings should be thrown 
for one answer? 
The tears. Are they not sufficient 
to give the depth of immensity?

Satish Verma