Darkness Singing

Satish Verma

Like today. 
I walk myself, in my footprints 
tasting grassiness 
sending the runners, 
on the anniversary, of the brain's death, 
when no deliverer was in sight. 

The empty chairs in black rain 
wait for the parted windows 
to let in the screaming light 
for a reunion, with the children 
of tongue, who were lost 
in wilderness of vows. 

Looking at the world 
from a keyhole, at an unearthly hour 
you viusalize a miracle, 
to heal the blood apart, wounded 
grains of golden dawn, a mother 
thrashing for charred hunger.