Forgetting The Hymn - Poem by Satish Verma
Spherules start a pincer attack
on the modesty of an epiphany.
The manifestation was incomplete.
The windows were very small in-
the wind-palace. Only ringdoves
were sitting on the sills, cooing all day.
They were sitting in a row; cross-
legged, the naked monks. As a penance
they were getting the scalp hair pinched off.
Swearing will not help. You need to
suffer like a forgotten language,
like grass blades who bend again & again.
Comments about Forgetting The Hymn by Satish Verma
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.