Without Envy

by Satish Verma   Jan 23, 2021

This command was
I will not accept the defeat
from life.

You were mending the shoes,
of god. My vase had
broken. This is my burden,
I carry the body of a poem.

Waterfalls. I stand in
midstream. Throw my walking stick
in flowing stream. Will heal
the dead legs of a thought.

The belly is full of crickets.
No light. The unending muffled
trill. The pebbles fall in nightmares.
I seek the ending of blue marks.

The air fills the lungs with your prayers for me.


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