Hostage Poem by Satish Verma
Hostage
Cohabiting:
my poems make me sad.
You reflect the times
my body leaves the wound marks on sand.
Again I had gone to my tattered home
to sleep under the moon.
There was only a small window.
I would look at the stars whole night –
to conceive and jump into a lake
of synthetic fathers and hired wombs.
The grieving faith now holds you responsible.
O god, in reverse order, become a man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 4:51:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
