A Letter From Earth
I saw you at your birth, your first cry echoed within me.
I carried you, fed you, clothed you and sheltered you.
From generation to generation I have been your home. Yet you pay me back with cruelty.
I once wore flamboyant elegance – a gown that you have torn apart, stripping me naked; stripping me of my pride and beauty. The forests that you cleared for your urbanization. Oh! My vegetative gown. My golden crown, that gives you light at day. My sparkling eyes, that light up the night sky.
I have been patient with you, hoping against hope that you will rekindle our love. But now I must accept that I’m a hopeless romantic, holding on to memories like fumes of smoke from dying flames.
You have tainted me with plastic, paper and fossil fuels from your vehicles and factories. I know you need these, but a little kindness would do.
You are master over all creation yet you consider no one but yourself. I gave you dodos, passenger pigeons, mammoths, you name it! But your forefathers paved way for their extinction, just as you are doing to other creatures.
I’m in deep distress!
My tears you call storms, my rage you call tsunamis, landslides and fires. In my distress I quiver, and you call it an earthquake. Because of your selfish choices, I’m now like an enemy to you.
If you could only rekindle our love, dress me up again in my gown of elegance– my vegetation. Reforest, and rid me of the waste you have suffocated me with, reduce, reuse and recycle.
With love –