Tree of blood

Sadness evokes memories,
morning dew on leaves forsaken.

Light penetrating,
piercing the morning

with a new promise

.A moment held through time
threads of our tapestry
that were unraveled

 and forgotten.

Where have we gone wrong,
lost our keen,
and our desire to know our blood.
Am I the only one to celebrate
the roots of our tree
that had spread
to different lands
planting seeds
and building new worlds
only to forget the ones
that spilled their blood
their desire for us to live and escape
hate and oppression. 

The threads frayed,

the threads in desperate 

need of repair.

I am the one consumed

with the tales,

the history,

the need to remember.

My heart 

like bruised grapes,

beating in anticipation.

I am the weed left behind,

resilient,

seeking the light. 

This poem is about finding new family that I didn't know existed until this week.