Bottom Of A Doorway Poem by Satish Verma
Bottom Of A Doorway
There was once a worried face
who unbuttoned
a white fire
in a pink hole
of an eye to lift
the fingerprints
of depression. It was
a closed-circuit
for a galaxy of
hot flares and flying hurts.
You must not cross
the threshold
of silence, abducting
the blood stained
words.
Come back to your home
O grief,
the fog is thickening outside.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
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5/2/2024 6:55:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
You personify grief excellently. Almost make it a thing to envy. Bam! your writing has such force, i love it. It's addicting to me. keep on friend, sjg