FEEL OF SHARING A GOD

It should not have happened 
this way, or that way, 
rendering breathing difficult 
in the intense smoke of misunderstanding. 
The granite wall between the doors! 

You grope through a thicket of words 
crossing the centuries of hate. 
Sun, no sun settles for the hope 
of a slain blankness, to properly 
heave, a sigh after the childbirth of truth. 

All the dead white bones, jutting out 
from the ancestral incompleteness of 
forgetfulness of man to accept gracefully 
the suffering of neighbourhood. The very 
feel of sharing a god. 

You are what you are not 
I am not, what I am.

Satish Verma