Bald Winter

Pushing you away
from me.
I was in flames.

A cadaver walks
without shadow. Blackbirds
were falling dead from
the blue sky.

Do you believe
in omens? Nameless a star
melts into my eyes, burning
the face, arms and torso,
making a history.

All the blind pilgrims,
are ready to depart.
I let you go to
find the hidden import.

The live skin
becomes leather. You want
to wear the shoes
to remember your foes.

I look back, from
where the journey didn't start.

Satish Verma