mother says blood is thicker than water
and I wonder if rose-tinted viscosity
obscures reality and feeds
deep-rooted problems
into gnarly family trees
twisted canopies seek sunshine
in carefully constructed forests
filled with fake dew-drop perfection
and find no nourishment
in tired soils, overturned
we can’t just bury
the wretched hatchet
we must use it
toil until the sun rises
and the earth heals
let the rain wash us away
then we will finally be
free
