Global Earth Custodians

We are not owners.

We are hands in transit,

temporary signatures on water,

breath passing through forests

that remember more than we do.

The Earth did not ask for conquest,

only for listening.

In cracks of ice it speaks,

in rivers thinning to whispers,

in winds that carry warnings

without raising their voice.

To be a custodian

is to refuse amnesia.

It is to guard what cannot speak in courts,

to defend what has no vote,

to stand where profit hesitates

and conscience must not.

We inherit no throne,

only a threshold.

Between what was given

and what must remain.

Every seed entrusted to tomorrow

is an ethical act.

Every repair, however small,

is a rebellion against collapse.

Care, here, is not tenderness—

it is discipline.

Global, because damage knows no borders.

Earth, because there is no elsewhere.

Custodians, because survival

is a shared responsibility

or it is nothing at all.

And so we walk lightly,

not out of fear,

but out of respect

for those who will arrive later

and ask, simply:

Did they know?

Yes.

Did they act?

This is the only answer

still being written.

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