Mum Is The Word... Poem by Satish Verma

When I started seeing you, needs were
accumulating. A great paradox.
The price is high for stoicism.
My inner life gets battering
Give me something to think of escape.

It was not a deliverance. I was learning
daily from the elixirs, a prudent toxin.
The other story is simple. It was the game of
enchanting annihilation.

Miracles sometimes suffer in the hands of
ordinary. The scales start tilting. No body
stops for you. Grief becomes your partner,
Silence in your bed.

The silence is ultimately the moment of
truth. Truth erases the lie and seals a
kiss of death.