The Goodbye

A marble calm under the shaky gaze was parsing the human pain. I would lift the calculated grief from folded earth. You feel badly bruised and racial war becomes anathema. Past the age eyesight dwindles, cannot identify the faces of dead. O my God ! Bizarred bloated eyes filled with blood were groping for the fallen walls. Who had dug the garden with grenades ? A theme hunger separates the hearts. When desert was the bed for daughters and sons, the fathers were shaking with hate. The shine wears off the love. A different world under the lids. Miracle does not happen. We were searching for the doors. SATISH VERMA