GROUNDING

In the surge of dark 
there was a lunar smile in my glass 
I will not abandon the moons 
in your eyes. A white sow was 
going to deliver the babies. 

It was departure time 
and the profile was ready to collapse. 
Mars was throwing the loaves 
to human beings and aliens were 
going to land on earth. 

Sing my baby, sing. Opening the 
knots of life, returning to barn 
in wild tempest. I know I have 
to unearth the buried truth and 
talk to ghosts of lies.

Satish Verma