Blueberries

Once upon a time, a young journalist wrote about her life

She wrote a book for children in a town called Blueberry

She had never tasted one, though

She never knew the sweetness of the fruit

Until it made her, once again, feel alive, see it through

 Once upon a time, two girls lived different lives

One was a dancer, a teacher, and a journalist

Another was an academic living at the same city as a feminist

That the first one always visited, unaware

That such brilliant young soul also lived there

Once upon a time, I became honey and glass

Meanwhile, another girl made only of blueberries

Lived in her own universe, right over there

We never crossed paths, until time came and made it right

Until time came, and made sure we'd sleep through the night

Once upon a time, I found a sister

She listened to the same songs as me, and she read my thoughts

How come we never met before?

Perhaps this girl right here was not ready for the sweetness of blueberries

But how could she ever, if all she knew was war?

Once upon a time, my friend hugged me tight and cheered

All day long, with legs for days and love for free

I attended her wedding as a stranger and became something more

Still, I led her into a new path full of love and warmth

She made sure it would be honey instead of blood and gore

Once upon a time, I saw my friend turn a switch

From hugging in hallways to "mommy, I am sick"

I saw her exhaustion and her resilience

And in every single one of those minutes, I just wanted 

My sweet sweet friend to come back to me, in disobedience

Once upon a time, I met a woman so tall

A giant, a goddess, a queen of empathy and love

She could make everyone feel small

Still, she caged herself in this box 

I could never get in, at all

Once upon a time, a beautiful sensitive woman 

Made me cry, yell, and laugh

We sang, we cried, we drove, and we fought

We are always fighting the good fight

And God, oh, God, so much more than I thought

I am so grateful that she is, now

In my life, in my dreams

In my arms, and under my skin

In my routine, in my whims

In everything that is the space between

To Bruna Castro, with love, lips full of honey, venom and blood.