I imagine my mother my mothers mother and my mothers mother, mother in one room talking to me ministering to me telling me to bend with the wind putting the fight in me strengthening the roots under me telling me to be the tree I'm listening in disbelief is this a dream I'm having or is it really happening taking notes in case I forget I start to scetch the one I never met the one who left before I came all I knew was her name she was dark tough skin like tree bark glowing eyes and bushy hair she wore no smile she told me these are serious times reality of illusion blurred the lines the one who disciplined my mother and the one who disciplined my mothers mother chastised me then took me to the river and baptized me kicking and screaming I realized the open resistance wasn't pleasing to their eyes then to my surprise I felt the warmth of loving eyes shine on me then I wrote this quote
"though dark clouds may form in the a grayest sky there's always gone be a silver line"