This poem has been written by me on the Earth Day 2009 in grave concern to our mother EARTH.
Hoping for wide publicity by all. Chaarvi Murari P-3 Kalpi Road, Gwalior , India
Like a dead corpse I lie, and you gnaw away and feed
Like those feathery demons,
Who just know hunger and greed.
Don’t steal, but share,
Take your share but do take my care.
So ungrateful you are,
Isn’t it obvious to show my despair?
When I take your home away from you,
Off course because of you;
You ask then, “Oh! Has the time come to undo the past?”
A cut here and a cut there might not have hurt so hard
Even though I cope and fought, The way it does now,
As you have swept in little slivers everywhere,
Which I cannot take out.
I can only wish that,
One day you may realize and admire,
Love every speck of your home,
Protect and clean every corner with care.
Maybe the fault is mine,
That I let you evolve a lot and be near divine
Before you had actually understood the twine.
Now my son, you have gone out of my hands,
You have filled yourself so much that now you have become totally empty.
Don’t wait till you become prodigal
Cause till then I would have also become a pauper.
You call yourself a civilized creature,
Does that mean only a beast wearing clothes?
Or have you really got in yourself that grace
That you may one day let me be embraced
“See I have saved your prestige,
give me another chance I will wash away all your disbeliefs”
Running through my yellow fields,
Touching the pretty flowers,
Swashing in those emerald waters,
Did you ever think that, what if?
You step out of your house next day,
And see huge cliffs surrounding you,
Then you crumpling in one corner like a mouse
With fearful eyes will die of suffocation as there will be no escape,
Not a single beautiful escape
Which you used to draw on a piece of paper with colours littering around on it, On the floor and ruining your clothes
But still you felt happy and contented.
Let not those memories be left like a glimpse of past,
Save some thing in the present to suffice,
So that you get little respite,
When you yourself would have become a pantaloon.
Had I been very cruel to you my child?
No, not the way you had been blind
You still have got the time,
I beg , I beg to my own creation to please rejuvenate your own creator.
This time I give you your chance, go,
you become my king, you become my lord, my mentor.
But make sure that do not lead yourself to your own destruction,
As then I, in my pain echoing from inside,
Will not be there for your protection.
By- CHAARVI MURARI.