Peach Fruit of Six Thousand Years

I’ve been exhaustively searching
for the story about the valiant prince
who shot down all eight blazing suns
and swallowed the ninth's burning heat
to save the Earth from the endless drought.
It’s the tale of the onе who stole three golden peaches
from the greedy queen
for what would grow out of them
they say, blossoms every six thousand years
and gives its owner eternal powers.
This is the forgotten legend where the warrior trades his immortality
for those dying of famine.
The hero who’s done his duty to save the world
and ends up forgotten.
What’s kept in the books, however, I learn
is the generosity of the gods.
It’s the forgiveness of fate,
the answers to all our prayers.
But then I also know no one celebrates the end
of the decaying blossom,
the temporary beauty that fades.
No one remembers the death of the naked peach tree
of six thousand years.


Eve Dineva has published in Asian Cha : Literary Journal, Ethel, Poetic Sun and Indian Ruminations.

alphanumeric, poetryZoetic Press