Give Me

They were burned alive. 
Most cherished to me, 
betraying the functionality of a system, 
interstitial asphyxiation took place. 

In the garb of a garlanded saint 
a gun booms. 
The death is rolled from tongue to tongue. 
flying limbs get strung on trees. 

A faith was in flames, 
somebody leapt from the inferno 
with folded hands, to melt into a stone 
reaching nowhere. 

Non-particles were becoming visible 
parting the sky. 
Nostalgia was possessed with belief of non-believers, 
a thought without a thinker. 

I am taking liberty, O God 
give me something to live!

Satish Verma