PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My father grew up in Indian Territory

You should hear the stories he tells

Of painted horses and war painted warriors

Fighting for their legacy

As it helplessly slipped away

My mother grew up amongst the amber waves

The same place from which the grain was stolen

During the Dust Bowl and barren days

When prayers went unanswered

As worn souls headed west

The roots have grown deep

Ever since my family tree seeped

From the two original souls

In which my soul now longs to know

My grandfather on my father's side died in the second great war

Following in the footsteps of his father before

My granddad on my mother's side cried during the first great depression

Living in the missteps of his father before him

And, yet, here I am

The grandmother who gave life to my father lived into her nineties

Far beyond the life in her own mother's eyes

The grandma who poured her life into my mother was poured from another

Mother who gave every ounce of strength feeding her and two brothers

And, yet, I've not covered them all

The roots have grown deep

Ever since my family tree seeped

From the two original souls

In which my soul now longs to know

So, I will follow that taproot

Until I finally know

From which seed I sprung

From which seed they sewed