IN INWARD ALONENESS

One by one 
leaves had gone, 
several and many times. 
Lone tree, standing naked in dry wind 
was ready to walk. 

In inward aloneness 
to know the roots. 
You look straight into the eyes of primeval 
suffering. Under a cramped disguise of happiness, 
behind the glassed life. 

For the clawed, weeping silences 
who had turned away from the shrill voices. 
Night of burns, 
and promised beach of immortality 
shoulder to shoulder.

Satish Verma