Between Love And Hate Poem by Satish Verma

After decapitation, it was
half-honour,
half-land,
and half-bread.
We had prepared ourselves for epilation.

A war for milky sap
starts for an empty chair.
You are asked to abandon
your field and go for
a hate profile.

The gated religion now
scars the high searing, wayward
fronds of untangeled age
of absent truths and
faithful lies.

I will go again to
find the answer in a similar
darkness to stand
my unconditioned faith
to stumilate the unflowing river.