Ziplocked
Fear grips a family of words.
You are going to where you do not want
to go.
I remain worried about the unknown.
The inevitable was flowering
on dead palms.
Would you exhume the past to find out,
what the divinity has buried
along the panicles of croci ?
I do not understand this war
between glaciers and guns.
Can we drink together the elixir
of death dripping from the snow peaks ?
Sun was screaming from the unblooming trees.
Satish Verma
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