Unsung Hands
How can you unsee an etched wound ?
The name will tell the moon.
An empty sky now calls for
the rains.
What was it-
the ceremonial farewell ?
A dependable pain now starts
pulling out the sharpnels from the body.
You may call it
meaningless. My poem now
moves between the stings. Somebody
was going for a merciless kill.
Satish Verma
Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2013
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