I forgive you.
From within the cage built by your ancestors,
When the heat of your expectations fell upon me,
You thought I would shine.
But you, too, felt the burn of the iron, didn’t you?
Human praise is a divine addiction,
For two hundred thousand years, you haven’t escaped that prison.
You bathed in the admiration of my scorched skin’s brilliance,
Thinking my wounds would become a proud armor, spreading that radiance across the world.
But you never saw the pain of the wounds.
Yet, I forgive you.
Because amidst my silent screams, I noticed your hidden scars.
The burnt scent of which enlightened someone else’s world, millennia ago,
And shackled your very soul.
The lament that today, as hot steam, has scorched everything around.
So I promise,
The cycle of burning, the chain of shackles, ends today with this new sun.
Let futile praise vanish into the darkness of envy from today.
Tag: growth
Standing Tall
Today, I realized,
It’s been long since I danced to the gushes of wind of the fall,
Long since I sang to the birds that nest in my branches,
I was too busy giving shade to the passersby who ate seeds and littered my feet with plastic wrappers.
You see, I was a seed once, too, and then a sapling,
I looked up and gazed at Ma, who used to filter the sun so that it was just enough for us saplings.
She sang to us that it would be our noble duty one day to welcome everyone in our leafy arms when we would be as old as her.
The birds cheered to her songs while the squeaky squirrels added to the chorus.
She danced with the storm’s gusty winds, through pouring rain, and even when the sun shone bright.
But she sang it one last time and soon forgot about us.
She became busy looking after the guests that sat among us.
Giving them shelter even when they scribbled painful wounds on her skin.
Today, I realized I had forgotten to sing, too.
Ma thought her leafy canopy was insufficient, and her concern made it difficult for her leaves to stick to her, depleting her shade.
This vicious cycle made the birds concerned, the squirrels alarmed, and the strangers left gradually.
The birds requested a song from her again, thinking it might bring her back, but they couldn’t chirp through her self-contempt.
Soon, a day came when the winds proved too strong for her, and she bent down, never to rise up again.
The birds flew away, the squirrels fled, and the strangers returned.
With her last remaining breath, she tried to sing a song again, I tried to sing along with my shaking voice, but it got masked with the sound of her carcass getting dragged away.
I am as tall as Ma now. My canopy shelters the whole park. But just like Ma, I am not confident with my branches anymore. The strangers came and scratched on me the same, but I grew more concerned about whether my shadow was enough for them. It is my duty. I try to look at my sibling for songs of encouragement, but today, I realized, she got plucked away by a stranger for having flowers too beautiful. I wish she helped me add to my canopy on the days when I couldn’t.
So, I turned back to my birds, who have been waiting for my songs for centuries. To my squirrels, who value how much I care about sheltering their food. And I tried to sing. I had forgotten the words, but they reminded me and sang along. The winds vibed with my melodious branches as the rain washed away my sins. My leaves started growing again.
Strangers will come and go. They will hurt you when you shelter them. Curse you when you sing to them. Drag you through the ground when you need help. And you must keep offering them a haven from the sun’s rays. It’s your duty. But if you want to live, you turn back to your family and sing, and they’ll sing along with you.
So, today, I realized,
You can’t really forget to sing,
Unless you want to.
The Living Writes 