Written by Cato Jun
Edited by Rodlyn Mae-Banting
the fruit
was the first thing i noticed
about the mango tree in the park.
the ripened crops were like sunbursts,
peeping through
the branches.
i stood underneath
to feel the tickles of the twigs.
it felt like someone was playing with my hair,
twisting the strands with long, stick-like fingers.
i looked up to see the giant
looming over my small self,
but somehow i felt safe.
i leaned my forehead on
the trunk.
despite the coarse bark,
the tree itself felt soft and warm.
it may have been a kiss,
or just a layer of moss.
i laid down on
the roots.
the system spread in all directions,
but there was a part
where the growing roots gathered,
as if it was a seat for me.
at the ground level, i saw
the fireflies.
they were teeming all over,
suddenly disappearing,
then reappearing,
following a rhythm of breathing,
perhaps the pace of smoking.
but by that point, my eyes were heavy
and drooped shut until
the morning.
i was awoken by someone:
a man with an ax.
he told me he had to cut the tree down,
as it did not follow city protocols.
i was apparently welcome to pick the fruit,
but i said i was fine
as the mangoes were not the thing i was going to miss.
the man started to slam his ax
but was stopped by
the giant.
i had only heard stories of the kapre,
a large protector of his tree,
this tree.
the giant turned around,
looming over my small self,
but somehow i felt safe.
his hair mangled with moss,
his fingers long like twigs,
his eyes bright like mangoes.
he cracked a small smile,
but his sun eyes burst into tears.
*
i do not remember anything.
i am suddenly lost.
there is a man walking around with an ax in this park,
so i wander until i see
the fruit.
it is the first thing i notice
about the mango tree in the park.
the ripened crops are like sunbursts…
wait, do i know this tree?

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