My last draft on this poem.
She goes by a sweet Vedic name, Bhoomi
And is worshipped by many a sage and muni
She’s sometimes described as a sacred cow or calf
A sentient being who can cry or can laugh
Speaking of non other than this planet, the glove, the giver
She’s our mother, our sustainer, our deliverer
Her glories are told in ancient folklore verses
She likes the massage when we walk on her surface
Mother Earth is revered but she has been ravaged
We treat her as though we are selfish and savage
She can be hard, but also tender and fragile
Deserving attention and a break from the hostile
It is innate sensitivity that we must awaken
To the spill of rubbish that she has taken
We must own up to our vile deviation
Offer protection and end her frustration
Let us endorse “Those who give are those who love”
A sentiment arising from the heart and sent from above
This is the spirit of both the Earth and the sage
It is a practical course in which we should engage
- Composed by Bhaktimarga Swami, The Walking Monk
Source: http://thewalkingmonk.blogspot.com/2022/07/thursday-july-7-2022.html
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