An Awakening Poem by Satish Verma
An Awakening
Profiling the flaws
after the ignition, starts
the outrage.
A stoic will assume a
secret. The mute testimony
against my naked walls.
Your gifts are lying unseen,
unused. I have gone, O tormentor―
beyond your reach.
When you would try
to annihilate the vision, I will
check the bleed of eyes.
If the bell rings;
somebody will arrange the table
for anaesthesia.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 3:58:52 AM # 1.0.0.1119
