Ram Krishna Singh's poem puts us inside a moment of panic and self-examination. The speaker pictures himself "shrieking in the sea," tangled and "knotted," as if drowning in his own confusion. Then the focus shifts suddenly to the palm of a hand. The lines there look like a spider's web, and caught in it are "corpses that have no face." Judging by the imagery, these could be lost hopes, forgotten people, or the many anonymous moments of a life that has slipped away.
The ending is quieter. The funeral of these faceless dead is reflected in the eyes, which seem to wave goodbye with "dying light." The speaker appears to be mourning, perhaps for his own fading life or for everything that has vanished unnoticed. The mood is dark, anxious and weary, but also strangely still. The poem moves from a scream to a slow farewell, leaving us with a sense of loss that has no clear name or face.