Striped 1280 853 Prasanta Verma

I choke on dust,
wreckage of world,
and my crushed
bones of existence.

Painful agonies—

    what breathing soul
    is exempt from knowing?

While the world continues
doubling and halving
its joys and sorrows.

    What of souls
    doubled over?

Lines mark the days—
scratches on skin.

Irrational love
splits      the cosmic lie
for an irrational world


    striped in earth and red

prone to depths of
unspeakable treachery
and hatred

Is labeled

    The Redeemed


Prasanta Verma

Prasanta Verma is a poet, writer, blogger, occasional artist, and aspiring author. Born under an Asian sun and raised in the Appalachian foothills in the southern U.S., she is currently digging out of snow piles in the upper Midwest. She is a mom of three and coaches high school debate.

All posts by Prasanta Verma