Coming Face To Face

Satish Verma

When a gravedigger 
the impasse ends. 
A robot turns on the rains. 

With horror, you release 
the doves to reach for 
olive branches for peace. 

Paraplegic, the horse 
will not run― on hawthorns. 
King was decapitated. 

You talk to your seers 
sleeping six feet down in earth 
to explain the genocide― 

of unborn fathers, when 
they were praying 
headdown for downpour.