When I was young, I looked at myself: so delicate, so smooth, so small, unformed. As I grew, I reached upward, but I was hidden under shade, the light obscured. Gravitational forces pulled me down toward the ground, away from the sun. In my hunger, I looked around. Others had spherical or ovate shapes. They simply absorbed sunlight and grew. But I had to fight for brightness. I reached toward the sky, stretched and flexed and bent. As I matured, I could see I was becoming elongated, arched, an anomaly. This is my truth: I am curved because I found my own way, unique because I searched for the light.
Author’s note: In last week's Longshoreman's strike, NPR and other media outlets warned that fresh bananas could be one of the first casualties of the shutdown. While the strike halted, the fascination with bananas stuck in my mind and prompted this poem. I’ll admit that this unique fruit has always had a special place in my heart because the word banana rhymes with my name.
To learn more about the science of negative geotropism, which causes banana curvature, check out this Science Times article.
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I read this poem and then read it again Feels like a midday lemon sorbet. #palatecleanser
This is wonderful, especially after reading your note. Thank you!