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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