Cry of a wounded mother
What have you done, my children of various colours, races, creeds and regions?
You have not spared your first mother? Primeval mother that sustains civilizations across time-space continuum. A mother that sustains your own biological mothers, fathers, families? Ungrateful lot! You have destroyed the mother earth, individually and collectively, via your acts of vandalism
amounting to slow murder?
Your greed for more profits ruined my face. You killed the soil with chemicals and pesticides for better yields. Razed mountains and hills for sand and other building materials for swanky homes. Poisoned the rivers and oceans, choking the aquatic life to death there. Massacred rain-forests that loosened the top soils and activated floods.
Your vehicles and home alliances filled the skies with toxic air.
Any act of ignorance would have been forgiven by me, the most tolerant mother but you all knew and never cared for the consequences of
wanton destruction in the name of progress
Now the gods have fled from the forests, rivers, mountains, dales and rivers.
They are angry with the ungrateful mortals.
The divine wrath will be visiting too soon.
Again. And again.
Convulsions. Putrid air.
Grey vaults. Fires.
There will be more floods and famines.
Oceans will warm up.
No winter in winters
No summer in summers.
There will be snow in the desert
Desert in the snow!
And very little water.
Only yellow haze across the planet
And high or freezing temperatures.
Above the clusters of towers
a bird soars through the smog,
desperately searching for a tree
that once was her home
but bulldozed last night by a greedy
bungalow-owner for light and vertical growth
in a dense Delhi neighborhood.
The summer drains
choked with debris
assume the riverine form
in the monsoon
floods the areas
with fury---at being
by the citizens.