Poetry: Mango Season
By Rachelle Chang
Artwork by BWL (age 8)
When I was young I climbed the mango tree
That grew in our front yard. I played
Bare feet, scraped knees, wild hair, without a care.
I swung my legs. I dreamed. I prayed.
In summer months we used a bamboo pole
To reach high for the fruit. We strained
Arms raised, head back, eyes wide for flash of gold
Up high before the season waned.
When I had climbed beyond the leafy green
Into the sun-bright sky; I dared
Head up, back straight, arms wide, and looked below.
I lost my breath. I paused. I stared.
The mango tree, long rooted in the earth,
No longer stood. Once childhood’s shield
Leaves cut, roots starved, green song silenced
An empty place, a concrete field.