I Become Black

A Poem by Satish Verma

I Become Black

Playing with cinders
I will reach your home
to absorb light.

Give me a talisman
to win your heart―
to save the moons.

Mars becomes the poorest
god. You won't reach
there to erase the red doubts.

The visitor stumbles.
There was no path.
I wanted to hold your hand
for eternity.

Why to murder the
god's messengers?
Was not every star a guardian
of your beliefs?