01 March, 2022

Death was not Safe

Endless, this was a
romantic murder, in the orchard
of berries blue, black and red.

The prophets will not
return. I will carry fireflies in
my folded hands for the rival darkness.

The pain deepens. Community
was disintegrating. Newborn words
try to overrun. I look at the stars.

Satish Verma

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