The Drowning
The ancient war is on.
You kill,
or get killed.
Do not jostle.
You were sinking in quicksand
taking on the depth.
In exile, you
wanted the remains of
a brilliant moon, after it was possessed.
The poet will find
the jungle, standing quietly
after the execution, was stayed.
Between the witness
and accused, the judge will not
reverse, the slant of the truth.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2016
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