She has me thinking of ancestors
My mind visualizes the family tree
we see descendants as limbs, branches
but maybe we are more like apples
we bloom, grow, fall, decay
our seeds returning to earth
the process begins again
this perpetual lineage of humanity
I think of apples
I read about a certain variety
The Black Diamond from Tibet
A rarity, with misleading name
For it isn’t black at all but deep purple
And I think of family
How the black sheep often called
The bad apple
Maybe we just misunderstand their shade
Their hue not as dark as we call it
I think of dark and think of chocolate
People say it is bitter
As the experience of the decaying apple
As the label placed upon the soul misread
Dark chocolate is my favorite
It’s pungent bite contains a unique intricacy
As the tart apple
As the imperfect human
Puzzling how we think of unconnected things
Ancestors, the color purple, chocolate
And yet when we consider them
We find an interweaving
Much like when I think of me and you
Different places, different circumstances
But when viewed through a particular lens
We see we aren’t so different
We are woven together
By a singular thread



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