Return Journey
I forgot, was it me
in a body pile draped in dust,
still hot, bruised, burnt, a mad megalomaniac
starting a civil war, creating suicide bombers,
young virgins inhaling death ?
This journey under the guns, displacing
hapless thousands, will reach destination
on thick, blood stained red, dirt road of life ? Step by step
the dynasty breaks and violence, a malignant
spread overtakes the bones
of avatars ; the round bloodshot eyes
cross the barriers of silence and step out
from the skin: they were bombing
his bunker.
SATISH VERMA
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