The Barren Land

What am I now?

I am a mere piece of land

Where none comes to plow

For I am a piece of barren land.

There were days,

When I was like the sun!

Though I could not emit rays,

I was as useful as the sun.

I used to wake up to hear the birds sing

A melodious song that was sweet—

Like the honey made by those who sting—

And I watched as they were no longer on their feet.

Each animal from our forest

Had a pond of clean water to quench their thirst.

But the rest—

Who were immobile—had rain to quench their thirst.

Tiny creatures took care

Of me. Let me say

That we were interdependent and never in despair.

Never you mind; you won't understand us anyway.

All was fine or so it was till the day

When humans came to explore.

I was afraid that they might stay

A little longer to ruin our forest floor.

To my displeasure, my fears did come true:

They deprived our little pond

Of freshwater, and most of the birds flew

Seeing that they made the rest incapable of making any sound.

From entwined creepers and climbers to

Gnarled trees, each with unique flowers and leaves,

And the small population of animals too—

I had no tears left to cry as each one leaves…

Oh, the humans killed them!

All my friends died in a conflagration

Produced by none but the humans,

Who wanted me to help feed their nation.

They wiped most of my dears,

But not the tears of the only mourner:

Something replenished my tears—

My last and weakest shower.

For days I'd been left alone.

They dug me up and sowed—

Sowed seed for them to consume alone.

Then, I was watered.

'Twas good to see the green again, 

But it wasn't for long,

As the humans had to collect their grain.

They shooed the birds from the place where they belong.

For years, the same continued with me—

They had sown, harvested, and sown—

Until they abandoned me 

After realizing they'd caught the wrong one for their own.

And here I'm lying

Away from the living:

No birds are flying

And no crawlers are crawling.

With no water to drink

And my top layer away,

I am as sterile as one can think.

When will this darkness go away?

Oh, who will listen to my woes—

The woeful tale of a lonely piece of land?

I am a place where no one comes,

For I am a piece of barren land.