TEMPTATION

It was the mirror seducing a little

blue bird. The something. A chance of

meeting the counterpart, perhaps. True

reflection, real nothing. Must keep striking.

Madness of certainty.

 

Conflict of a desire. Condensed anguish.

No, yes. Over the time he changed. Stopped

talking about his injuries. Agreed to

cease flying and carry the burden of

wings. Something failed to explode inside

 

Sometimes he was frightened a bit

between the bushes, behind the walls

under the roof, on the terrace,

hopping on the road, crossing the

center of a crowded city.

 

Impossible to go back to native place

to borrow the past, and laugh with

the hurricanes. Wondered

if a prayer could reach the god of

fugitives and give him another chance.

 

 

 

SATISH VERMA