The Reckoning

Satish Verma

It was revenge on you 
by unknown. 
You were sentenced to live before 
the ashes arrive from thumb to thumb. 

The onset of grief 
was caliberated. I would 
not live with a mad weaver 
who will not heal the moral bleeds. 

A line delimits the dots. 
The dance will not begin tonight, 
of democracy. The sparrows 
were frightened. There was blood on the road. 

You want to go into a long sleep. 
The moon had an excuse to rise late. 
The seeds will observe the silence, 
before they come out of the asphalt.