Evening Smoke Poem by Satish Verma

It was like a combat
exercise at sunset.

I won't call any deity
for my prayers,
and expect to survive
the blasphemy.

No, there was no carnality.
How could you take
your own creation?
An affair with your own shadow?

You always loved the
hidden meanings,
unstitching the wounds.

Seeking an endless
peace for a pilgrim, climbing
a river of quivering eyes.

A tongueless marionette
does not need the strings.
The Barbie doll may not crumble one day.