My Holy Mistakes Poem by Satish Verma
My Holy Mistakes
The Moon was disappearing
like a runaway. How much you
will take in from my last words?
I was not wrong, seeking
emancipation from your chains. No
grievance. I will not look from your eyes.
O god, the weather is uneasy.
I wanted the sun to come out of the water.
The night was chasing me.
Sunday, October 30, 2022
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5/1/2024 5:16:02 PM # 1.0.0.1119
