A Question From Earth to Humanity

By Aaradhya Sinha

I was born in silence, starlight, and dust.

Oceans in my soul, galaxies in my eyes.

You called me Mother.

Danced in my rain,

Hid beneath my trees,

Wrote poems beneath my moonlight.

You kissed my soil and promised me forever.

But that forever was brief, wasn’t it?

Because you built cities on my bones,

Poured poison into my rivers,

set fire to my lungs,

And called it all... survival.

But now...

Now that my glaciers weep,

And my skies choke,

And my heartbeat falters beneath your machines—

I ask you for nothing...

Nothing but this:

Do you still love me enough...

To stop killing me softly,

While posting pictures of sunsets... You barely notice?

But still,

Still, I cradle you.

Still, I bloom in your ruin.

Still, I offer warmth... while you turn me cold.

But for how much longer can I bleed beauty...

While you carve out comfort?

So today, commit for me.

Commit not with flowers—but with fire.

The fire to change.

Because I was your first home...

And I hope not to become your last grave.

By Aaradhya Sinha