Unlived death, that was me
waking in exile from the bones.
He said I remember your verse
a split open bloom!
Given away your gems to sea
ready to become ash, green blood,
you have killed a white cloud
now go for a floral burial.
He said I remained unpacked
like an open wound.
How far space will hang on the shoulders,
how far the sky will remain blue?
Snow will not melt I presume
I will burn my shirt with stain.
Life will not stop but conceive
the proud burning pain.
I stand today without complaints
grieve for my silence, ignorance.
There was a home I could not save
miles from water like bright dome.
Satish Verma
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