SoftlyA Poem by Satish VermaSoftly
A severed hand
writes the history of falling man. Lynching to raise the kill rate. Where are we going? Unknowable what? The mystery of elusive truth? Collecting the debris after the impact. Are we becoming aliens? Unnamed, a humming bird reaches at the anniversary of last name. In the valley of rainbows there was no iris. © 2021 Satish Verma |
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