Why Death Calls Again Poem by Satish Verma
Why Death Calls Again
No more pain is needed
to sharpen my pen. No ravens
want to collect without asking.
Life makes the glacier
dirty. My right thumb opens the
door of a galaxy of tears.
A dream, a home
walks out. The history will be revived.
I am reading the blind books.
Saturday, April 6, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: books,history,life
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8/28/2026 3:10:32 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
