Nonaggression

A Poem by Satish Verma

Nonaggression

Taking my baby steps
to break the bread of deeper―
thoughts and burn
the hanging roots.

The tormentor was on the
prowl. Daffodils were trying to
entice. The herons standing on
long legs go into a trance.

It is dawn. I have to meet
the redlined date of encounter. The sears
has become green. I want
to peel off the glamour of glittering stars.

In my moon walk there was
no rule. I was free to become me.
No slit lamp to penetrate my eyes
I want to go blind.

Enough this world. My black
box cannot be found.