Knee deep in water
legs wide and firm
bent double all day
planting a swaying emerald carpet
up to the horizon
Bending, bending, bending
the waters clutch my ankles tight
like my own little infant
Water
Neera and Arva
whisper softly to me
You are not alone.

Not a tree for shade
besides the railroad tracks
stretched taut up to the horizon
Bending, bending, bending
over the hammer
beating rocks into gravel
sky blazing fire
beating my back into gravel
The sky
Alia and Neelambari
whisper softly to me
You are not alone.

Rising at dusk
battered, bruised and aching
begin anew, again and again
the same chores in a hypnotic circle
that is in a spiral never ending, demanding
Smoke in your eye
Bending, bending, bending
And the first tender light
filters through the shutter
Morning rays
Kiran and Sana
My sisters
whisper to me
You are not alone

Soot black darkness
stars neon lights in the sky,
like false promises
that do not touch
like false horizons
to which you cannot fly
silent unresisting
Bending, bending, bending
In the darkness of this night
Timira, Rajani, Laila, Nisha
My sisters
whisper
You are not alone.

Open your eyes
stand up tall
stretch our your hand
to the sky.
You are Vasundhara
daughter of the earth.

The earth
Avani
that holds up half the sky.

The moon and the stars
Shashi, Tara, Chandra
my sisters
whisper to me the secret
After the dark is the morning

The dawn
Usha, Aruna, Saba
my sisters
are all with you
And they whisper
The secret
You are not alone.

© anjali purohit 2013

part of this poem read for  The First Climate Message Video Festival – EARTH DAY 2014  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGWwYqiIIlg