Satish Verma

Listen to wind.
Silence was tied to
the stake, before burned
alive. I wanted to know
the truth.

Home lies, growing
louder in the din of impeachment.

Stand at the breach
of love and ask the blind irises.

For thousand of years
you have confessed for
the dark omens.

Did you find the pure

Walk with me to
look at the moon.
It was in flames.