Ancestral Present

Pardon my mask 
I will put you on pedestal to torment me, 
because you were necessary 
for my existence. 
When I prepare finally my death wish 
you can smile. 

Your eyes are looking through my head, 
I know, 
you were hurt from my moon face. 
I will wash your feet with my tears now. 

Exhausted, nameless in a crowd 
I was counting my see-through triumphs 
all piled up as burned out bones. 

To live without meaning is very painful. 
Everything is abused for self gratification. 
Over a black sky, against the mountains 
the old silence becomes teeth of a dead faith.

Satish Verma