Childless Every year

The tree is so green,

But not forever greenery in its life has been,

Who every year gives birth to so many new children

It raises them, it caters them

And every year has to become childless.

For when you walk towards it, and stand under,

You seem to observe a single dry leaf attached to her.

I don't know about you,

But I hear that child say, “No,

I can't leave you and go”.

She is weeping tears of blood,

As she's lost all her children.

And how can she now bear such pain, of being childless?

She is weeping, she is weeping 

As she sees her only child dying a terrible death, suffering in pale pain,

For which she fought the world,

Stood strong against storms,

Undefeated for hers survival.

When you stand under it after crushing it's fallen dead children,

I don't know about you, but I hear her cry

And the child’s too.

It tells its mother, it begs her not to let him go,

But when a sudden fast wind sways its branches, the weak falls off.

All branches empty, all her beloved gone forever;

A painful silence of a mother's empty lap, which will never be otherwise;

A suppressed sob which not every human can hear.

But the tree knows one bittersweet truth,

That the circle of life must never stop going round.

She has to come over her grief.

She has to get back to normal.

She can never forget her dead children lying at her feet.

Who once echoed with laughter when their mom swayed in motherly love.

She has to prepare herself to birth hundreds once again;

To raise them once again, to fight the world once again,

To lose them once again and to get a bruised heart once again.

Life never stops for anyone,

For when you come back in summers,

Existence of her forever lost beloved ones is wiped off the soil.

She has once again borne so many new ones;

She is once again making umpteen sacrifices;

Only to become childless once again in autumn,

And bear the greatest curse of Him and time all alone.

I always wonder, I don't know about you,

I don't know how many try to feel nature,

But when I do, I surely get to know,

If such a mere tree is forced to survive a fate worse than death;

Then who are we humans facing sorrows, ones created to guard this entire planet?

Shlok Pandey is an Indian boy with a mind full of poems and stories. He is an emerging writer who writes to connect with the hearts and emotions of the readers. His story titled "Who's Poor?", is scheduled to be published in the September edition of the Wise Owl Magazine.