Ash Poem


I could not take it, the fear.
Transient flesh
vibrant in a sunken ship.

On a coral island
deconstruction of a fallen window.
Jumping on million skins.

The level of violence was rising.
Rebuttal will not convey
the truth, the reality.

A thin line of lips
skates on the ice of power.
In a palm grove

I was held by music of death.
My arms unwrapped
around the portrait of life.

White swellings on the knuckles
betray the gliding priest,
who denies the god.

Submitted by satish verma.

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