the great mango injustice

mango was adored by all,

loved, appreciated,

able to light the faces of

the cynical

and revive energy in another,

by way of miracle

.

one glance at her flesh

brought smiles to their

worn faces,

She was filled with love

and sunshine,

delicious and sweet

- prized to eat

.

but I am of the branches

of the papaya,

rooted in poisoned soils

battling hardship

and abject toil ,

trying my best to be

tasty and delicious,

to balm the wounded

superstitious

.

but consistency

can not be maintained,

one bite of me is sweet

the next is decayed,

oh how much we papayas crave

to be like our cousins

about whom they all rave

.

most humans ignore us,

leave us to rot,

when mango is around

we are quickly forgot’,

thrown to the crows

for their pecking

or to the soils

beyond the decking

.

mango was never left to sour

she was always wanted

and quickly devoured,

envy made my fruit more bitter,

but I couldn’t help

not being

emotionally fitter

.

was it my fault

that I wasn’t like the others?

that my ancestors were poisoned

more than their brothers?

some divine punishment,

Perhaps?

to be eternally unwanted

only ever picked last

.

I fell from

the papaya tree,

not completely poisoned,

but not close to sweet.

so please, one day

if we ever should meet?

show me some love,

sweep me off

my metaphorical feet

.

lie to me, if you must

just make me feel wanted

make me feel enough,

tell me that you love me so,

more than any mango

that ever could grow

…..

This came from a silly conversation I recently had - where we were describing what fruits we are like. I likened myself to mango, or sometimes pineapple… and then realised I was not always these ! I used to be papaya. I used to be the fruit that just sat there rotting at the back of the fridge because no one really likes papaya… especially not when there are other fruits to choose from. We laughed a lot at the accurate tragedy of this metaphor… And I thought I would bring it to you in a poem 😇