Ashamed
Afraid to ask, the white
fingers, to write a name on black paper.
The milky way.*Janus will
trap the light and open the doors.
War of words was not
going to stop. The alphabets do-
not pronounce well. The-
rape, the brutality, the mutilated death ?
The mother tongue weeps.
The masks will write a history, in exile.
Throwing the coins ? The
real face becomes a poem, lifting the wrists.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment