Mango and Flame

A large green mango stands on its end, speckled and heavy, and from its shoulders three thin stems lift three flame-red flowers into the air, their long red stamens trailing like sparks.

The fruit does nothing. It stands there, solid, patient, the colour of deep water. The flowers do everything: they flare out in three directions, ruffled, edged with gold, as if they could not keep still if they tried. It would be easy to look only at them. But they are growing out of the mango. Without its weight they would have nowhere to rise from.

Most bright people have someone like this near them: steady, quiet, rarely photographed. A parent, a partner, a friend who does not need to be seen for the light to keep burning. We notice the flame; we forget what it stands on.

Perhaps brightness always needs something steady to rise from.