Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Eyes Become Stones

When you become
a question, I had
no answer.

Lingering in secret
alleys, I turn to
fragile defence.
And a bird is shot down.

There was no time
to hold the time of arrived, for you
to come late to join
the festival of home coming.

You were me, once
upon a time. No I don't change
the game, when the gun
was pointed at me.

There will ne war
In death, you will ultimately
become deathless.
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