25 June, 2012

Climbing

Before sinking to knees. 
I will talk to flowers. 
Day of arrival has come. 

In death, wisdom of trees 
will eject the seeds 
of fire on hip-locked roots. 

A miracle will raise the bones 
from the rage of crowd. 
The king has agreed to depart. 

Darkness sings in the 
valley of sun. 
Tongues are free to weave the moon. 

Till the words are ready 
to walk on street of sorrow 
to remove the blood soaked prints.

Satish Verma

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