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News of mass whale strandings has become more common, highlighting the crisis facing our oceans. The poem “Whales’ Lament: A Cry for Change and Earth’s Survival” pays tribute to the seventy-seven whales lost in Orkney while lamenting a distressed planet, emphasizing urgent threats from seismic exploration and pollution. It warns of environmental degradation and urges action through recycling and sustainable practices, inspiring hope and calling for a collective effort to protect the Earth and its ecosystems.

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In ancient cliffs’ embrace, where waves caress the shore,
Seventy-seven souls met fate’s grim embrace—no more.
Once masters of the deep, now stranded, lifeless they lie,
On Orkney’s sands, a silent requiem beneath the sky.

Their songs, once ocean’s harmonies, now echo in despair,
Across barren shores, a plea for salvation rare.
Each breach, each tail slap, a desperate cry,
Yet the tides betrayed them, and hope began to die.

Seagulls circled, scavengers of sorrow’s bitter taste,
Their cries a mournful requiem for futures erased.
We stood as silent witnesses, mere mortals on the brink,
As the sea claimed its toll, and life slipped away in sync.

Was it the noise of human hand, seismic guns’ deadly band?
Or the siren song of polluted seas that brought them to this land?
These whales, emissaries of a planet gasping for breath,
Implore us to change our course, to avert impending death.

Their haunting songs, once carried on ocean’s gentle hum,
Now disrupted by a discord, a dissonance yet to come.
Each desperate breach, a question mark in the air,
Did sonar’s piercing shriek tear at their map of sound, a snare?

Research whispers of a link, a theory yet unfurled,
Between the deafening blasts and a path lost in the world.
The whales, like ships of song, navigate by sound’s embrace,
But man-made dissonance tears at their celestial space.

Beyond this tragic scene, a truth we dare not deny,
Our oceans choked with plastic, a slow and silent lie.
Microplastics ingested, a toxic, unseen blight,
Weakening giants from within, a future far from bright.

Studies show the fragments, in blubber they accumulate,
Disrupting hormones, fertility, a grim and tragic fate.
The whales, canaries in the coal mine, a chorus of despair,
Of a poisoned ecosystem, a future choked with care.

We stand as silent witnesses, the weight upon our chest,
The consequences of our actions, a final, chilling test.
Shall we remain bystanders, or rise with purpose strong?
To mend the broken fabric, where we all belong.

The whales, once vessels of grace, with silent symphonies,
Now bear the weight of plastic, a future ill at ease.
Let’s turn the tide of pollution, with mindful steps we take,
Reduce, reuse, and recycle, a difference for Earth’s sake.

Beyond this tragic scene, a deeper truth unfolds,
A symphony of loss reverberates through time’s old folds.
Their bones a cathedral, their song a plea,
A call to safeguard our blue planet, our legacy.

Let us pen our grief in ink of seaweed’s verdant hue,
Raise voices against the tide, for Earth’s survival is due.
No more plunder of forests, rivers, and azure seas,
No heedless march toward extinction; we must seize.

Shall we embrace the radical, the unthinkable decree?
A one-child policy, a desperate plea.
Earth’s womb groans under our weight, our heedless stride,
Compassion demands we tread with care, side by side.

The mountains bled by greed, their riches torn away,
Rivers choked with refuse, where life once held sway.
Oceans, vast and deep, now a swirling plastic tomb,
Where creatures great and small meet an unwelcome doom.

We play with fire, a child with a burning brand,
Scorching the very Earth across shifting sand.
Is there no end to hunger, no satiating maw?
Must every corner yield to satisfy the flaw?

Let us step back from the ledge before the final fall,
Hear the whale’s mournful song, a desperate, echoing call.
Plant a seed of change where factories belch their smoke,
For a future painted green, a world we can invoke.

Can we become the stewards, not the Earth’s plunderers bold?
Will future generations inherit stories untold?
Respect the mountain’s strength, the forest’s leafy grace,
This Earth, our only home, a sacred, fragile space.

As the sun dips into the sea, a hopeful horizon gleams,
May we rise like the tide, fierce and free in our dreams.
For the whales’ lament echoes in our hearts’ refrain,
A call to heal, protect, restart—for their sake, for our gain.

In memory’s halls, inscribe their tale so true,
The pod of seventy-seven, their final wail, their due.
May their sacrifice ignite our resolve anew,
To save our dear planet—for them, for me, for you.

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