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My Theology
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Satish Verma I will do no harm
in asking the colors of
dazzling stripes so lovelorn
that they cling like reptiles.
Cold-blooded. Transcend
like seagulls, which dive
to catch their own images. You kept on
walking on cobble-stones.
Half your life sat between two
deaths. One of redwood
and other of falling star.
You want to go back to lake for a holy bath.
Ignites. You bleed like a
hidden wound. Never finishing―
of endless journey. You
will never find your namesake.
