I Shall Let Go

Moisture was becoming 
the strength of dry eyes; 
pounding a glacier. 

There were different stages 
of anguish under the aegis 
of moon. I am abandoning 

the night of terror. Days 
were numbered. One by 
one, they fell before the dawn. 

Time had been revengeful. 
Asking for the pound of flesh, 
against kisses of death, given free. 

I refuse to submit an 
apology for writing my poems 
instead of sending laurels 
for the rising sun.