Freedom At Last

Satish Verma

The tears have washed my sins. 
Taming the dead, 
I start a vivisection 
of myths. 

I take an impromptu walk, 
go inside my weaker self, 
abandon the pretention 
and come face to face with the fear. 

No portrait, no symbol, 
no map was needed. 
I was going to open a locked attic 
to liberate the imprisoned past. 

O colossus, 
O my golden bird, 
my sun baked grief has ripened 
in ruins of desires. I am free.