I was sown from a lineage of broken seeds
into fertile but violated soil
I fear for my progeny that they too
may give birth to brokenness
I did not know how broken
nor how broken the seeds were from which I emerged
How come we cannot see ourselves clearly?
Why did I feel like a thriving plant?
when I have grief buried deep inside my cells
“Well, f*ck you too.”
Said the seed Sower over my iPhone.
As if I owed him something.
He is simply the Sower of the seed.
I rarely saw him.
My mother’s weeping watered my growth.
Alone in the house I grew.
Again, and again. Crying. Crying. Crying.
I had one giant Oak Tree
holding my hand by the halcyon lake
He was felled.
I miss his strength.
And hearty laughter
I cry when I visit him and his Broken Tree.
now lovingly buried deep
I have grown tall.
With a Tree that also came from broken seeds
We are the carriers of brokenness.
Striving to heal
Attempting to bear a harvest of healthy fruit