The Presence


The hawk was landing.
Squinting at the urgent need
of slaughter and hope –

among the frightened hunger
of truth, of running feet
in the tall grass.

A world apart in
seeking the reality of
dying for earthly love.

I was not sure of
the manifesto of bricks and
stones falling on evergreen kisses.

Satish Verma

Submitted by Satish Verma.

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