The branches of a cherry tree bent down,
their leaves moving above my head.
Back then, I didn’t speak.
The scent of the field after rain,
and cut grass,
this is how long my awareness
took to be born.
They taught me words,
called me by name, and I kept looking
upward, asking:
What do I need gravity for?
They taught me to love everything
that carries a crack,
everything that stuns with color,
Music has always lived inside me.
When you sat down next to me,
I understood how much I had changed.
You were reaching out,
and this time
I didn’t listen
to your story.
In the cold, we all grow indifferent.
We put on armor made of distrust
so we won’t freeze
from giving warmth
to someone else.
When I got off the bus,
you said to me:
“Come home safely.”
I wish you a safe return as well.
Wherever your choices may bring you.
Do you know how much
sweetness and tartness
there is
in the small fruit of a sour cherry?