Unlived death, that was me
waking in exile from the bones.
He said I remember your verse
a split open bloom!

Given away your gems to sea
ready to become ash, green blood,
you have killed a white cloud
now go for a floral burial.

He said I remained unpacked
like an open wound.
How far space will hang on the shoulders,
how far the sky will remain blue?

Snow will not melt I presume
I will burn my shirt with stain.
Life will not stop but conceive
the proud burning pain.

I stand today without complaints
grieve for my silence, ignorance.
There was a home I could not save
miles from water like bright dome.

Satish Verma