That mad truth.
The unborn was knifed
long back. Now you throw―
the net in the crowd.
I had found you
after the centuries of conflict―
in small eyes, looking
for the stolen myths.
I want to hold your
face one day and bury it
in my tears. It should not have
happened in the jungle
of jinxed plays.
The unmarked tree. I
had picked up the fallen fruit
to taste you. Would you
find me in dark?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A web of luminosity is spread over the world. We need not shake hands with our neighbors, help them unload grocers from the car. We can check in on social media and spread good will with a harmless butterknife. It slides over the bread between me and you.