you rip the smile off,
from the face of a sleeping Buddha.
It was time
to start digging a weeping
hole in the grave of an ancient-
god who would not wake up
after you found blood on the knife.
What was your mandate
after finding the turmoil
in the tunnel for light?
The life sentence passed on
to vultures will give the
corpse a chance to live.
On one side were the angles
developing the spatial memory.
On other side you were
sitting in a cage.
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Comments about this poem (THE VERDICT by Satish Verma )
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