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

About Sonal Singh

I believe that life is a repertoire of anecdotes. The various situations that we encounter, the many incidents of every day, the people we meet, our conversations with them; all make life a melange of tales. And, that is what I attempt to capture through my writing. My cooking is no different! It reflects my love for travel and my love for innovation. The kitchen is my happy place. So, even though by vocation I am a recruiter (, by passion I am a writer, home chef and a hodophile.

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