What Hospice

A Poem by Satish Verma

Becoming unsteady at points of darkness.

Becoming unsteady
at points of darkness.

Tinged with blue
I am ready for the unspoken departure.

How to reach out―
for a situation, which was not?

You sleep on the floor
to hear the earth’s agony.

A helix― surrounds the
imperfect creation of unsavory thoughts.

Abusive was the creator,
The evil had a beauty in destruction.