You are the Editor (Memory Poems)


I am not at war I tell myself
As I hold these captured silences
As trophies in my war of repose
My hands are too large for these shackles
But fit neatly into your sadness
I am not lost
Waiting to be tamed
I have become
the residue of the chase
How many lives
walk through us in pain
As we wrest control of this climb

Feroze Varun Gandhi
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