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“Sorrow in the Heart of an Apple” I tidied my old sorrow, wrapped it gently in scented cloth, and buried it beneath the apple tree in our village orchard. Seasons rolled by... And I believed it was finished, forgotten, even the burial site lost to memory. Then came harvest. I plucked a red apple— shiny, luscious, radiant with promise. But with the first bite, I tasted it. That same sorrow, aged but unmistakable. It had not only survived— it had multiplied. Now here I am, face to face again, finding it in the heart of every apple.” — Louis Yako
Sorrow in the Heart of an Apple”
I tidied my old sorrow, wrapped it gently in scented cloth, and buried it beneath the apple tree in our village orchard.
Seasons rolled by... And I believed it was finished, forgotten, even the burial site lost to memory.
Then came harvest.
I plucked a red apple— shiny, luscious, radiant with promise.
But with the first bite, I tasted it.
That same sorrow, aged but unmistakable.
It had not only survived— it had multiplied.
Now here I am, face to face again,
finding it in the heart of every apple.