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Mending Heart
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Satish Verma I will ask you
to kill the weird thoughts,
and become wordless,
like a verbatim, voiceless
prayer.
At night, the moon
will break your silence
for the sake of mockingbird―
and tremblers.
A deep pain may violate
the peace again. You cannot
forget the veiled stranger, who
explained the myths of
losing oneself.
Discreetly you want
to surrender to win the
god of blue waters.
A blank paper starts
printing your name.
