Skirting The Book - Poem by Satish Verma
This was man made,
changing the landscape.
Fanatically you cling to mother
terra firma like a baby primate.
I am going back to look
like my fathers,
with twisted contours.
Forward― facing, but looking behind.
I climb up the blue,
to unsolve the murder and go
into deep meditation to reject
the gods. The gold mine was flooded
by unprecdented rains of hands and footsteps.
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