Reconciled Poem by Satish Verma

A visible evil stands
upright. I did not want to
die before the death.

My needs were small and few
but I am at peace, breaking
water without shaming the earth.

I will now make a moon
out of the mystery of mass cremation
of rose buds.

The small recess of the soul
mends the wall of the flesh to become
a stable house.

The black crypt, maintains
a secret. Here lived a wounded
soldier once upon a time.