It Was Insane Poem by Satish Verma
It Was Insane
Why do we
reach ending―
in our dream wars?
Walking on water,
in absence of body
when soul was dead.
Without names―
history was being written
in air. Like smoke
was rising in tainted sky.
You were on trial,
of murder on moon―
sitting in lotus position.
Wear the night
for your children playing
with stars.
This was involuntary
slaughter,
when you didn't listen to my memoir.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/4/2024 8:05:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
