Et Tu?

Satish Verma

Like half-brother 
moon was following me. 
Tonight the dethroning commences 
on the murderous hills 
of faith. 

You grab a snowcloud 
to refuse what you would be. 
The animal that lives 
in you has become silvery haired. 
There was a terror of being isolated. 

Earth was dying in me. 
A bloodied machete― 
travels across the lands, 
riding on the tears, screams 
and disembodied peans. 

Lifting a sacred book 
the hand trembles involuntarily. 
Is it the homicide of bright sun? 
Et tu, O man?