Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Death Of An Angel

Death, be merciful.
A part of me was broken
and became a star.

An angel had touched me.
He has gone back to his home.
Why am I trying to resuscitate his cloak?

O my light, you lived
in me. I had kissed you in my darkness.
In troubled times, you
just disappeared to leave,
your voice, purity of face
in my heart for eternity.

But the wait will continue
for you. The fall―
crisp falling of thoughts. Longing
to feel you.
Longing to feel you, on my bruises
like the dew on grass.
A-complaining?
No, nothing. It is the unopened
eye of a wound.
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