The country gathers all
In the billowing folds of her sari
Like a wide hipped mother
Embracing her many children
She groans and moves about
The filth and rubbish heaped on her
Uncomplaining and accepting
Of the increasing burden
Her wayward children
Frolick in the much
As she silently sheds her tears
One day, she’ll give way
To the relentless deluge of waste
Her rivers and lakes are drying
And the birds and animals she sheltered
Are dying or running away
She tries to hold on to them
But knows they won’t stay
One knee bends as she moves to clean
Not long before the other one crumbles
And soon she’ll be sprawled
Face down in the waste
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