From a Seed Became Fruit

Do we really know how we began, not us as a people but we as individuals,
It’s harder and harder these days with absentee parents and long distance lovers, close by baby mother and fathers to know the total history of our footsteps,
The actuality of our descent from descendents who were raised by grandparents in two family homes, with picket fences those who died on or escaped the lynches, but yet, yet even then do we truly know, the white blood that swallowed us whole with frisky masters who frisked house slaves days in and days after, shooting seeds in our histories bearing our current reality.. a lack of who we actually be.
How far back can we trace ours seeds when we cut our selves sweet juices bleed of unknown fruits, who knows the essence of our fruitful roots when tongues hold in silence, afraid to speak of years of miss guided attempts of love that failed, what will you do when your baby boy wonders why he is, when its tough to even know who his daddy is, let alone who is daddy’s father was, grandparents & cousins were, footprints, for how will he ever have a greater chance of moving forward without backtracking his past, he is bound to make the same mistakes his daddy has because his momma never knew the past of her lover, that’s when we as a people began to suffer, wonder in fact what happened to the moms and dads the TV shows had, Cliff and Claire knew there’s so Rudy and Theo never had to bother, they knew just like Steve and Laura ,seems on TV they knew family matters, but I guess TV is something we can never duplicate some things need to be taught in homes watched mannerisms best in replication,

No one really knows where this all started or if it will ever end but my fruit is mixed and unknown its sweet but bitter firm and soft I’m a mixture of it all because I hold the hands of a millions of us who are missing the soil for which our seeds were planted., tell me are we apples or pears were we bananas or grapes did we fall off our trees and mix with some vegetable traits something like a tomato often used as a veggie but seed like fruit makes us confused, sparking arguments of are we or are we not fruit

Why is it so hard to know you, to know us, is the nature of this generation one that must carve out our starts something like a pumpkin on Halloween a fresh but scary work of art, we must make names for ourselves because with children taking maiden names, fathers being estranged, mothers silent as to the seed who created your breath what else is left but to reap our own soil, be a different kind of us so that way we can make a better you, and you can be much more than them. We are the seeds of our own generation growing strong but containing the roots of the missing