The Whispering Silence
Bleeding the sea
for brown seaweeds.
I was trading the tides.
Talking me blind;
Kissing on my face,
O moon, you were reading
the dark earth.
To awaken me.
I prick my fingers to collect
the fractured thoughts.
The ospreys were expected-
to land for laying eggs.
I will seed the clouds,
to bring in rains, to
wash the stains .
Satish Verma
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