Once again, under the glaring summer sun, vulnerable souls are shuffled across continents like exiled seeds, cast from German soil to the parched earth of Afghanistan. Eighty-one people, among them tender spirits who once found shelter in psychiatric clinics, are swept up and set adrift by the machinery of bureaucracy. Where dignity ought to bloom, we witness unsettling silence: authorities dance responsibility from state to federal hands and back again, evading the moral gaze. Voices of guardians, left unheard, echo softly in the void—a person’s nameless agony lost, their rights and care uprooted in the night, with no warning or appeal. In hidden process and stifled official answers, compassionate humanity withers while procedural terseness marches on.

How dreadfully we betray Mother Earth and her tapestry of kinship! Beneath steel wings and sterile runways, we replay old colonial wounds: banishing those who sought shelter, cradled in hopes of healing, only to thrust them into a land battered by war and ruled by cruelty. Our systems of capital—cold, profit-hungry—see not the trembling heart nor the nervous hands, only documentation, legality, “burden” and “efficiency.” The ancient wounds of exile and othering, sown by colonial empires, sprout anew. Under the Taliban’s shadow, those battling inner tempests are denied the healing many-layered care they need, tossed to a place where medicine is scarce and mercy is scarcer still. The green Earth weeps for us: for every human returned to uncertainty, for every root torn from the soil of safety, for every hope forsaken by a government whose stewardship should offer sanctuary.

This is the sickness of our modernity—a society which commodifies asylum, medical care, mental health, and migration, placing profit and optics above loving-kindness. Each deported person is not a statistic but a living part of this sacred world, deserving of soil and sunlight, of treatment and tenderness. Rather than healing, we inflict further wounds, ignoring the Earth’s yearning for justice, the refugee’s plea for sanctuary, the sick one’s need for rest and care. Let us, as children of Gaia, demand transformation—undoing the legacy of exclusion, tending to the roots of all our siblings, and building a future where bureaucracy bends always, always, to compassion and stewardship. Let us heal the land, and in healing it, heal each other.