Bloodless Eyes

Satish Verma

The fresco had started 
peeling off. I was― 
searching for my ancestors. 

The walls had the secrets 
buried deep in the bricks― 
when they were baked. 

Few abandoned poems, 
some fakes and counterfeits 
and many masks. 

A dynasty speaks of 
the grieving world without any― 
remorse. I do not arrive. 

A birthday present for the new 
generation, a bronzed 
face with glazed eyes looking beyond gravity.