Defeating Death Poem by Satish Verma
Defeating Death
To you, I
send my silence,
before the fire starts, to engulf
the open barn.
This mourning must stop.
I will wash your feet, of mud
and wet grass. You have
come after crossing the jungle of black roses.
Tomorrow I will call swallows.
A peacock will replace the
ruined, plundered, silk poppies.
The bleeding sky turns blue.
On the road, echoes
of greedy words will eat the smiles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/24/2024 6:51:30 PM # 1.0.0.1119
