Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Something To Grieve

Facing an imminent
onslaught of apparitions, I
wanted an excuse,
to write a poem.

Staying raw,
in this dark, can I see your particle
face? Drop by drop you
moved away. Between –

you and me was a blue
lake. Shall I undo your
percussive existence, brutalizing
the wings, the peaks?

An Aryan pride? Why
not we walk back home
hand in hand, under the black
sky and a summer moon.
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