I wrote this poem, When Sadness Took Over, back in December. I kept thinking about my ancestors and if I had disappointed them with where I was in my life. I was definitely projecting. The answer to my question is no. Actually it’s hell no. I am not disappointing my ancestors. They’re proud of me and I’m proud of myself.
The tree split open
It was the oldest of the bunch
It lived in the most beautiful city
The city was small but beautiful
The tree was an ancestor standing tall for their lineage
Except the crazy one had been crying for so long
You’d think it was enough to water the tree but no
The tears rushed down her cheeks and down a dark hole
You know which one don’t you?
The one that never fit in
That is where some of her family members say she was
A dark dark hole
The sadness was too great that the tree split opened
It no longer had a stable ground to stand on