DIG THE FLOOR OF THE MOON

A fear stalks me on the road. 
Sun was very aloof and cold. 
Cannot stop the decline, 
give me prayers of your lips. 
You talk of dark children dying 
when I was losing consciousness. 

Will not question the ink of death 
or silence of night. 
The random greed of man walks 
in golden ruins without listening. 
I am counting my years wasted 
in pursuit of crazy dreams of climbing a watchtower. 

Hunger had become a great teacher. 
Pain becomes a face. Limbs and shadows 
seek justice after rape and murder. 
Something seeps in me. Wounds bleeding 
on my hands, I dig the floor of the moon 
where God was sleeping.

Satish Verma