The Family Tree

Crows find their whispers Within the branches and the blisters In the whistle of the breeze Blowing through the family tree. Ghostly, older faces, Once gone, leaving no traces, Seek refuge amidst the leaves Fallen from the family tree. A man, a tattered jacket, Crinkles about the racket - Seething in the silence Of unspoken, secret violence, Stomping! Sick with solitude, His emotions in their multitudes, A spade, a snarl, and boots, Here to unearth his roots. He just can't help to smile, As the moonlight starts to spiral. He can finally set us free From our lonely family tree.