Blood was in season,
on your hands...
Fear grips a family of words.
You are going to where you do not want...
Living between the deaths
as a witness...
I will need
some new words today...
It was a wake up call
invoked...
In twilight of pain
I blink for a dot...
With stoicism writ on face
I invite the chisels...
Holding the thread,
I catch you in midstream...
There was no end
to looking inside...
The ashes will come back
in mauve...
I had not imagined
that you will start an inquiry...
Standing in a milk line you were
talking of depravity, of blood lines...