The Troubled Faith Poem by Satish Verma
The Troubled Faith
That vertical sink
loaded with cargo
fraught,
with pools of blackened blood
burned me.
I never arrived
at a moot prologue
for the journey of dead.
The sun turned away
in a doubt
under a smoked trance of helplessness.
Perhaps it was true of a murder
in serene weather
when the astrologia was opposite.
The charred landscape
dithered about the lilies.
Will they come back?
Satish Verma
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/16/2026 8:01:06 PM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
profound piece very peotic indeed! ! !