Another Assault

Folder: 
Satish Verma

Set free the water― 
do not harm the spring. 
A short poem will write your 
theme in air, without asking. 

The unbaked bread 
will feed the oven. 
And the silent prayers 
will seal the lips. 

The bride of desert― 
weeps. No palms, no ariels. 
You run over the ruins 
to find the tools. 

Now breathing stops. A 
hammer strikes. 

It was the tragedy 
of a brainless tumor. 
Aneurysm brings the stroke.