BLOOD WAS ON SHEET

Was it necessary to see, 
what you wanted me to see, 
when I was keeping open my wound 
to hear the unheard scream? 
What was that which was getting in air? 
A little disjointed time, asking 
peace for the land 
to stop the moulding on the medallions? 

The divide and hate the hate and divide 
the kill the kill the kill of mercy 
and this was to be believed, not to believe 
in the grim fate of the fall. 
Pain was you was me was him 
the guilt of chewing polluted words 
to accept the uncertain, 
the naked lies. 

Blood was on shirt blood was on sheet 
blood was on paper blood was in eyes.

Satish Verma