Sustainability// Mother.

By Lily Rose King
25 April 2021

She heaves, coughs, splutters,

sick from the fumes she has no choice but to inhale

an involuntary chain smoker unable to relish 

in the dirty habit’s diffusion of stress,

She finds refuge in the diminishing number of clean spots

Rinses her soul in rivers unpolluted and

dries herself in the deserts untouched. 

She bleeds into the seas that surround her,

chokes on the plastic swimming in her throat,

cries at the murder taking place under her watch,

Powerless to intervene, she wipes her tears 

on the hilly blankets of moss and

tucks herself in for another sleepless night.

And yet she goes on

as woman does,

She powers through

Tired, weak, broken,

Cut deep from the endless attacks on her body,

Bulldozing her skin and scraping at her bones,

with not enough time for her wounds to heal in between

They take, take, take, 

but they do not give enough back in return.

It was not always this way,

there were days when her people worshipped her,

recognised her land for the sacred, finite resource it was

They made her blush with their talk of her beauty,

marvelled at her special ways

caressed her dimples with tender touch and

respected her strength, her resilience. 

That was before they realised they could exploit her,

once they had taken what they wanted they

left her vulnerable and cold, 

shaking in the wake of their ruthless greed,

Stripped of her dignity 

But they were the ones who should be shaking.

How dare they intrude into her home

and corrupt it with their insignificance? 

At first when they angered her she moved mountains,

She sobbed into the oceans and 

rattled thunder in desperation,

But they would not listen

They used her for her youth, and she had to grow up

- fast

Scarred in her most intimate places 

by those who had taken everything from her.

Now, aged, she is bitter,

Her trust in them worth no more than 

the sweet creatures now extinct,

Her sorrow rises with the sea

as she contemplates how easily it could be fixed,

how effortlessly they could come together 

to repent for their crimes 

and work to remedy her shores

if only they so desired.

To see her grasses grow green again,

To hear the hum of the rainforests,

To witness the lifting of the hazy smog,

For the people to live in harmony with the flora 

and fauna.

The clouds part as she sighs

... she cannot do it alone.