Frozen


After dousing the bride to a nice flame,
in between the howls
there were songs.

On mud path the hoofprints
came out prominently. On bullock carts
they had come for a sit in,

to resist, rebel or kill.
All day the heat, dust & winds
blurred the vision.

Hills between us
to feed the hate.
It is nothing like the good old earth.

The nascent bleed.
Time of non-movement.
Shadows of snow-peaks.

Submitted by Satish Verma.

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