Mother Earth

Shackled in chains, I have lived a life of bondage.

I have been bound to the children I bore, my seed.

I have despaired at what has become of them?

And yet, I had no choice but to be a mute spectator.

For I could not intervene, even if I tried, I could not.

Because, I have no voice, I do not speak, I cannot.

And yet, at times I wonder how it is possible that

My children cannot hear the aches of my wounds?

How it is that my offspring, the ones that I nurtured

Cannot hear my screams when I am desecrated?

How it is possible that my babies, the ones I carry

Cannot feel the pain that they have put me in?

Sadly, I am plundered by my own progeny.

 

Alas! My hurt is deep, it has cleaved my bosom.

I fear this is a cleft that may never heal, it’s too deep.

Sometimes, I can take it no more, so I quake in ire.

My fury unleashes a storm of immense magnitude.

I let my emotions flow and my tears cause destruction.

Sometimes, the hurt melts even my icy crown

And my tears flow unbidden, unhindered down.

I know I hurt my children at those times but then again

What parent does not take steps to discipline?

What parents does not lay down the law to errant kids?

Their wily wayward manner causes me much angst

So at times, I am left with no choice but to punish.

Sadly, it happens more often than I would like.

 

But I have not given up hope; I still have this dream that

One day, they will realize how they torture their mother.

One day they will rein in their callous, frivolous manner.

That day I shall be released from my shackled bonds.

That day I shall be free, unbound to laugh and rejoice,

In this world, that we have created together.

Maybe a day will come when we together will be able

To join hands and nurture and nature shall be one.

My children with understand the message I send,

They will shed their avarice, their selfishness.

When such a day comes, I shall heave a relieved sigh.

My story from then on shall change and I will narrate

To future generations how my children loved me.

They’ll see how I basked in their love and so I lived…..


Image – Matthew Smith via unsplash

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About Sonal Singh

An author, storyteller, and full-time observer of life’s glorious absurdities. I write humour-laced stories where chaos wears fluffy fur, emotions arrive uninvited, and middle-class Indian households become ecosystems of drama, love, and unsolicited advice. Armed with sarcasm, caffeine, and alarming emotional attachment to stray creatures, I believe compassion is less of a virtue and more of a lifestyle disorder. One that I embrace. When I’m not writing, I’m usually busy running a full-time HR consultancy business, rescuing animals, or trying to maintain dignity while being emotionally manipulated by my pets. Through my literary work, I try to blend humour with heart, celebrating the messy coexistence of humans and non-humans in modern urban India.

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