Becoming Nobody
In search of a missing clock
he went to the city of a fake encounter.
It was irrelevant to find
the lost tunnel.
There was no street without a rustle.
The sap of tall trees had bloomed
into jaws of death.
He stepped on a land mine
and blew himself
to reach the truth.
And his gift was an
apostate of me.
The tenth day moon will
celebrate my becoming nobody.
The rivals will have
a field day
dancing on my shroud.
SATISH VERMA
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment