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WINDOWS

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English Poetry

Sky wept
when you hanged the young truth
from a tree.

A shadow falls
on the hill
for a savior.

A winged flaw
becomes a legend
for the sake of a sword.

A nameless letter
betrays the will of a cage
to set the bird free.

My forehead marks
the wrinkles of ancestors
who would not give a name.

Satish Verma

3 Comments

  1. Vishvnand says:

    My windows unfortunately seem to be totally jammed
    neither opening outwards nor inwards.

  2. medhini says:

    A lovely poem, Satishji.

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