Mother Earth Sobs

Mother Earth sobs, waves of passionate grief pound her soul.

She scrubs furiously at her bare flesh, no longer able to remove the thick layers of black soot and acrid oil clogging every pore.

Mother Earth wipes at her scalding eyes, but ozone fumes continue to perforate her thin orbits.

She continues on walking, tentatively stepping over her littered landscape.

She stumbles and trips, her ankles sink deeper into a boggy layer of moldy trash.

She stumbles again and falls, landing face down on perforated edges of multiple plastic containers, intact though a hundred years have passed.

Mother Earth struggles up to her knees, to her feet, continuing to slosh her way over mountainous debris.

She scans the fiery horizon, viewing smoldering trash covering the entire expanse.

She gasps at abandoned rusty vehicles, television screens, assorted computer equipment, tossed iPods and blackberry debris.

She coughs, a hacking cough, and noxious gases seep further into her once clear lungs.

Mother Earth sobs, hearing the desperate weak cries from her wildlife friends.

She sobs, unable to assist them due to her depleted and destroyed forest habitats.

She bends down; picking up a tiny, limp dove, and attempts another vain search for clean water.

She drags herself through several dusty ocean pools as one hot tear drips down her cheek, landing into the dove's parched mouth.

Mother Earth clutches the dove to her own slow beating heart and releases a gut wrenching sob.

She sobs, "Help me somebody please! It's Earth Day."

The End