Juxtaposed

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Give me a piece of your body 
before you go. 
A tooth, a nail, a curled hair. 
A relic, my sadness wants to keep. 

By your absence I will live 
in the bones of tangled bodies, 
who were shot down on their tracks 
under the sun, eyes apart. 

The trembling does not stop. 
Bread loaves were lying uneaten. 
Wailing rises, reaching a crescendo. 
Blood splattered soil, my hands collect 

for god, to show a dirty game, 
when I meet him as a witness. 
Wanting to know, why not the right to live 
was the most sacred thing?