With Hot Red Blood Poem by Gajanan Mishra

1

Here I am
My witness.
Here I am
To speak
About myself.

True,
I am not there
In the pocket
Of my coat.
I am not
Intoxicated also.

I flow
Like the water
Of the Ganga.
I am at top of
The Himalayas.

I am not a machines,
I live with hot red blood.

I start the morning
With the rising sun,
But I face not setting.

2

And here I am
In emptiness,
Not empty, though.

I am silent,
But speaking a lot
In so many ways.

Here I am
Longing for you,
And you belong
To menot
Truth, though.

I am fearless,
And I am black,
With colours
White and yellow.

You see me blue,
And you are
Not able to say how.