Rebirthing Poem by Satish Verma
Rebirthing
It was a quaint
feeling. Something was
going to happen.
I had asked the fading
moon, are you going
to die?
Fear was going to
win, it said. The blues
are approaching.
Do you believe in
probables of phobias?
The killing of big hugs?
No mercy for the
obsession of noisy celebration.
A god was changing the gender.
I forgive the fire,
forget the light and
start embracing the dark for a bang.
With steel cables wound from strands uncountable, threaded through the sounds of your name and mine, every vibration of the wind is familiar. It matters not that you died, you hold the far end taut, dragging me like a water skier through the wake you left behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 3:45:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
obsession of noisy celebration. Thanks for sharing. SYLVA