Asia At The Edge

Folder: 
Satish Verma

I wished 
a solitary temptation, 
to write off karma 
and become responsible for the spattered blood. 
You were generating hatred, Asia, 
in the land of Buddha. 
I can hear the glaciers receding. 

Answerable to belonging, 
the change of generations, 
makes me free to become deaf and dumb. 
Only I wanted to see, and see through 
burning walls, 
the hands, who lighted the torch 
to burn the transparent shame. 

Rejecting the original script 
of fighting a god, in the midst of 
non-truths, how far the time will decide 
the destiny of man? I break off 
from the cliches, wait for the leaves to fall 
and its drifting darkness on the open land 
of wounded whispers.