Mother’s lamentations

She stumbles to my doorstep, upset and drenched,

Her tears blend with the raindrops, the skies gloomy and tense.

The air is thick, hazy, hot as her grief,

A storm rages within her— agony and total disbelief.

Her hands shake like the quivering leaves in the downpour,

Her eyes wild with fear, and her soul just too sore.

She gasps for words, but all that comes is pain,

A cry for help, lost in the wild hurricane.

"I can't breathe," she whispers, voice cracked and frail,

"From the fires to the floods, everything around that’s unwell.

My forests burn, my oceans rise with rage,

My heart - once steady - now beats in a cage."

And then she takes - this feeble form, so worn,

Is the Mother Earth herself, beaten, broken, and torn.

No more can she bear the weight of our deeds,

No more can she heal; we are making her bleed.

I sank to my knees, guilt heavy and raw,

"I’m sorry," I murmur, "for our every flaw."

“For every tree that we chopped down, every river we’ve stained,

For the balance we've shattered, and the peace we’ve drained."

Her eyes meet mine, pleading for a change,

For a world where our greed isn't so insane.

Let this be a lesson, a truth we must see,

Her distress is our doing, her pain is our plea.

Startled by the dream, I was caught off-guard by Earth’s ache,

A true awakening I must say, and there was a lot to contemplate.

I pledged in my mind to do my bit, to redress some of her woes,

To be the ‘salt of the Earth’ and care for her in her highs and lows.