Crashing. Burning.
Ashes.
Children scream and cry.
The scent of death fills the air.
Sirens wail in the distance
their red and blue lights
illuminating the scene
like a crime.
Soon, the sun will rise from the East,
and will shed light on the cracked, dry ground.
Earth is shaking, quaking, trembling to her very core.
She can’t take the death and destruction.
She can’t bear the weight of one more lifeless body,
falling into her soil’s embrace with a thud.
“Enough” she screams, but no one seems to hear.
“Enough.”
So she lashes out. She spews fire from the depths of her
tallest mountains.
She lights whole forests ablaze, letting them smolder and fall and die.
She stirs up her oceans, forces the raging waters onto the banks
of small towns and big cities.
Still, no one seems to hear.
Soon, her precious waters are polluted, brimming with plastic and toxins that she can’t wipe away.
She coughs and sputters and chokes.
Her forests are chopped down faster than she can rebuild them,
faster than she can carry the seeds to new places
and foster new families.
So she gets angrier. She weeps as her protective shield is torn away,
letting in the harsh rays from the powerful sun.
She uses up all of her strength as she forges the largest storms she can muster,
releasing them upon islands across the tropics.
Still, lives are lost and senseless wars continue to be fought.
Still, she is violated as machines dig deep under her sensitive skin, searching for oil that is almost gone.
Harsha Parpia
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