This is not a moralistic poem - Marianna Pliakou

The cherry tree carries the seeds of hope.
We look for it when most in need.
It caresses our eyes and speaks the language of our heart.
The last one we forgot. Now it’s all about the language of dry logic.
Its sterilized vocabulary dictates our lives.
Lives of attempted dry logic and linear narratives.
Progressive success is the dangling carrot.
But here we are, looking for the cherry tree.
Because our eyes are aching, our dehydrated consciousness suffers.
But we won’t find it in the forest, nor in the shape of a tree.
Because the cherry tree is the “other one”.
The one we chose to ignore, the marginalized one, pushed outside our micro-world.
The one we need to approach again.
The one that carries the seeds of our decency.

Marianna Pliakou