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THE WHISPERING SILENCE
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Satish Verma Bleeding the sea
For brown seaweeds.
I was trading the tides.
Talking me blind;
Kissing on my face,
O moon, you were reading
the dark earth.
To awaken me.
I prick my fingers to collect
The fractured thoughts.
The ospreys were expected-
To land for laying eggs.
I will seed the clouds,
To bring in rains, to
Wash the stains.
