the apricot tree

my sister screams at the apricot tree my mother planted

"Why have you pierced through my walls?

why have you broken my windows?"

I sit still, others enjoy the apricots.

it is the first harvest and we have been blessed

giddy with anticipation as its flower falls

a tree cannot bear the burden of a human's sorrows

it has bore fruit, the wait has been fought

the apricots are sour, 

there are some years ahead before they become sweet

but the apricots and the tree - with all its bothersome branches - are ours

and till then, window panes will be fixed and walls be filled

branches can be cut but they may sprout with glee

bear flowers for bees and turn to fruit and ripen again with ease

what is it then that we can do?

but to bathe in its beauty, to collect its petals,

to watch its leaves turn brown and to enjoy its fruits before it perils

yes, it is true, i sometimes scream at the apricot tree too

for why are its flowers a dull pink

why are its fruits small when my family needs plenty

but my mother cries too and when she does, there is not much a daughter can do

so may the apricot tree live forever

may it pierce many more walls

and break a thousand more windows

and let its flowers lose all their colours.

may the apricot tree live long, never to whither.  

~ ៷