Satish Verma

June 5, 1935
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Traumatised

Why did you offer your
eyes, to a non-victim―
of invisible violence?

I broke my silence to―
become deaf, like an
ocean under the ice.

The grainy moon crops
up in dark matter. The blue
bomb explodes in your face.

Blueberries swell on your
lips, throwing the stains on the―
mud path between the hills.

The monk sits for oil―
bath on burning coals.
Truth bursts out as dark lies.
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