July 13, 2024

The Earth is Not Ours to Possess by Navneet K. Maun

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poem reflecting on human roles and mortality

In the rear balcony

I beheld a fat, tabby cat

stretched out regally, luxuriously

basking in the sun,

a smug look, licking its whiskers.

Alas, my premonition was correct

It had gobbled up a pigeon,

A mere fledgling,

for the feathers scattered around

were few and soft looking.

I recoiled at the brutality.

My voice of reason whispered

It is the Survival of the fittest.

The spectre of a nuclear holocaust

hangs over humanity

like the sword of Damocles

threatening mass obliteration.

Martyrdom at what cost?

The kith and kin condemned

to a life of emotional incumbrance.

The pestilence of war

comes and retreats like waves

lulling the senses

fanning false hopes.

Mans’ obsession for land

perennial since antiquity.

Why must the Nations big or small

be jaundiced, covetous?

Considering their tenure on Earth so brief.

The recent Pandemic has expounded

The sanctity of life.

Mother Earth needs to heal too,

her flora and fauna recuperate

to prevent a Wasteland.

After all, how much land

does a Coffin occupy

when a person is reduced to dust.

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