Mountains Speak: Wounded Yet Waiting

I am the Himalaya—halo cracked, heart heavy,

My snow weeps as glaciers gasp for breath.

Kailash groans beneath pilgrims’ plastic scars,

Kanchenjunga cries in choking clouds.

Once I cradled sages in silent caves,

Now I cradle quarries, dynamite, dust.

Nilgiris no longer dream in blue,

Arunachal bleeds where forests fall.

I was a scripture before the script was written,

Kalidasa carved me in clouds, Tagore in hymns.

Now bulldozers write their brutal verse,

Greed graffiti my granite skin.

Hear me—your mother mountain moans,

Every echo is a broken vein.

Do not desecrate this divine shrine,

Do not barter away my breath.

I am bruised, battered, but still breathing,

Waiting for your hands to heal, not harm.

Mountains are calling—listen closer—

It is not a song; it is a cry.

Ritu Kamra Kumar

Poet’s note: Kailash is sacred as it is Shiva’s abode, Kanchenjunga is revered in Sikkimese lore, and the Nilgiris are known as the “blue mountains.” Kalidasa (Meghaduta) and Tagore often celebrated mountains in their verses.