Stay Still

By Saumya Mishra

As I stay still and the silence spills,

The sky glistens green, holding earth with chocolatey barks.

Birthing blossoms mingle with the scents of heavenly splashes until,

The bubbling brooks sync with the choral tweets and squawks.

But the woods now turn so bland and boring, losing all its spark.

The air feels burnt and bruised; no more sour and sweet.

The slashed stems wail while the dead leaves scream beneath our feet.

As I stay still and the silence spills,

I see the mirrory waters own an enigmatic beam,

And the freshness of heavens like the aromatic squills.

The rhythmic baby-waves resonate the euphonious streams.

But the rivers soon turn into the moonless empyrean,

As the flowery freshness falls into corrupt, cavernous corpse,

And the bemusing billows bellow the despairing melancholic mourns.

As I stay still and the silence spills,

Their shiny eyes pry around and the poised paws proceed

To prevail over their prey with the fine finesse and skills.

The roars and howls and grunts and yowls of numerous different breeds.

But their eyes now slowly shut close forever to human oblivion and greed.

Their skin and fur and heart and hair now kept bottled in our shelves,

The creatures cry out loud for help seeing their babies die and selves.

If we stay still while the silence spills,

We would see us distorting the Earth.

Shouldn't we stay still and cease to kill,

And let us help ourselves with rebirth?