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Tradition Poem
A metaphor of a family to a tree, each branch integral to the whole.
A Broken Family Tree
©
Lori A. Cain
I am one of many
Small branches of a broken tree
Always looking to the ones above
For guidance, strength and security.
One little branch trying
To keep the others from breaking away
Who will fall?
And who will stay?
Now I stand alone
Looking at the earth through the rain
And I see the broken branches I knew
Scattered about me in pain.
There are those who have taken an axe
To the root of our very foundation
And who have passed this destruction
Down to every new generation.
If I could take that axe
I would toss it deep into the sea
Never to return again
To harm the generations that follow me.
I am one of many
But alone I will go
And plant the new seeds
Where a beautiful tree will grow.
Small branches of a broken tree
Always looking to the ones above
For guidance, strength and security.
One little branch trying
To keep the others from breaking away
Who will fall?
And who will stay?
Now I stand alone
Looking at the earth through the rain
And I see the broken branches I knew
Scattered about me in pain.
There are those who have taken an axe
To the root of our very foundation
And who have passed this destruction
Down to every new generation.
If I could take that axe
I would toss it deep into the sea
Never to return again
To harm the generations that follow me.
I am one of many
But alone I will go
And plant the new seeds
Where a beautiful tree will grow.
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My son-in-law on his website made a very hurtful remark about my husband, the father of his wife and grandfather of his 4 children along with the rest of the family. He is trying to minimize his comments now. Outsiders who have read the comment have made the following comments "he is sick" "he is tryinig to divide the family" "this is a large stake for our daughter"
Unfortunately, he is home all the time as he works unsual shifts and more times than not, we leave messages for out daughter not always to be returned. I realize that perhaps the fact that his mother left him, his brothers and father when he was 3yrs old may haunt him, but our family has done nothing but embrace him, and as my sister has said would give them the shirt off our back and the last dime in our pockets.
Reading your poem, I feel those broken branches snapping day by day
Barbara Submitted on Sunday, September 13, 2009
Monique, Michigan Submitted on Wednesday, February 03, 2010
Nuno, Namibia Submitted on Friday, April 09, 2010
Grace, California Submitted on Sunday, May 02, 2010
Judy Gray, Lincolnshire Uk Submitted on Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Mary Submitted on Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Sherri, Albuquerque NM Submitted on Wednesday, July 28, 2010