Beyond Change

It slides stealthily in you, the fear shifting the blame, stoking to run. He said the wolves are coming. I heard a wailing sound across the black wall, I hate you, I hate you. He was crying and shouting. Why were you so good to me, why did not you hit me? He started throwing stones on jasmines – and then hanged himself with a shoe lace. Fingerprinting the DNA was inconclusive. Senseless incarceration, a hidden paranoia, a tormented soul arrested under the canopy. Heights, yes heights were responsible for the fall, for the hurt, for the pain. Could not stay fearlessly for a long time. Perfection was the watchword. Death was the peace. SATISH VERMA