From the womb of the Earth,
She rose —
Fiery, like the volcanic core,
unfolding each limb.
soaring, phoenix like,
from the ash left behind
out of the gore
the rotting Core
of the Death Sun.
Cremation smoke.
From the womb of the Earth
She rose —
Death crept. Silenced
factory smoke.
She strode — formed, cooled and calmed —
across lands and seas
sprinkling magic tears.
Like ether, the virulence spread
till mankind became isolates.
Asimov’s Solaria?
Or, will the Daughter of Earth
Heal and Recreate Life anew?
Phoenix teardrops.
Man and Woman, Race and Ritual
united by their battle to live,
survive with love and forgive.
There is a winter before every spring.
Mitali Chakravarty is a writer and the Founding Editor of borderlessjournal.com
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