Unhurting

by Satish Verma   Oct 4, 2019


Unshackled, the pallor moon
was lying still, in a white-
shroud of clouds, only face
visible, staring-
down languidly.

I have come afar,
from the whispering dark,
to annul my existence.

Your hands tremble,
carrying your name. The
magic of unsaid-
poems, working.

Life had been a Medusa.
The blues, the reds, the
greens, overbearing.

Scores will be settled
when moon,
goes down.

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