Somalia Calling by Satish Verma SignUp
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Theme: Life Share This Page
Somalia Calling
by Satish Verma
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I met a talking moon
on the road of death.
What easily comes, goes easily with winds.
I was counting the ribs of
my dying child. He went into the
woods to fight the unknown wars
of hunger.

Bunker: it went into flames
sailing into brilliance of space.
I am going to inherit the black grains
of molten day. How I will confront
the night tainted with bonfires
of sunken eyes?

God particles in tiny fists spreading
the spun cotton, intitating a
revolution of thoughts. A bumpy
argument. The icon denies the guilt
of mass killing. I want
to remain unsung.
 

Share This:
January 24, 2013
More By: Satish Verma
Views: 677      Comments: 0




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