Therefore, you survive.

Khushi Chauhan

READING TIME: 2 MINUTES

Bailey Young/The Baron

What is the purpose of life?
The fires leave everyone in strife,
The atomic weapons reign destruction on children still attached to their mother’s body,
On mothers who wanted to watch their children grow up,
On fathers who wished to spend more time with their families.
It’s the government, they say,
Too afraid to let a woman take charge,
So they decide to put the mass murderer at large.
Too much hate, too much weight placed on someone’s race—
The borders divided you, but this hatred unites you.
Crops burning, and people still aren’t learning,
Women humiliated time from time, yet a man
Is the one choosing their “crime.”
One’s body might be the only thing they own with autonomy,
Yet you still take that right away
From girls who aren’t even born.
Some, too broken, can’t bear to look,
They take their lives, unhook their hook.
Perhaps, when they’re born again, they’ll rise anew,
From despair to strength, with a brighter view.
But still, from destruction, resistance is born,
From grief, courage—fierce, forlorn.
The mothers who cry, the fathers who pray,
Hold tightly to dreams of a better today. 
For borders are walls that crumble in time,
And hope is stronger than any design.
Protests may falter, but seeds remain,
Rooted in struggle, watered by pain.
The earth may burn, but rain will fall,
The ashes of now can nourish us all.
And though power suppresses and hatred divides,
Love and justice refuse to subside.
So what is the purpose of life, you ask?
To fight, to heal, to rise to the task.
To build a world where no one’s erased,
And all can live with dignity, embraced.

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