I am an apple far from its tree

Which is to say

I cuss when I step on a nail

But cry when I try to sing

And that when you put on

Your honeysuckle perfume

I can feel a meadow of wildflower bruises

Well up on my skin

That when I hear talk of god

I bow my head

And leave the room

That when I see something broken

I try to fix it

That when I see someone broken

I hold them

Because I am broken too

Like a silence is broken

By the whisper of

“I thought I raised you better than this”

God, how that thunders through

The storm of my life,

How the only hate I learned from you

Was of me.