Being GratefulA Poem by Satish VermaBeing Grateful
Trying to shake hands
with moon hanging out, to reconstruct a memory. Was fortunate to have survived the night. A theater of death was birthing. No sighting of mercy, I was going to punish myself. The faithless will hatch a plot. Why swear words are needed to make a point? The man-eater was climbing up. Your body language leaves you. In despair of aloneness quietism overtakes. You have reached there, where you had willed. I will wait for the wasps. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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