Three Trees

My children play 

in the shadow of 

three trees, 

taken from 

the same land 

my grandfather 

called home. 

They are rooted
deep, here, 

in the home 

that did not
want them, 

that never meant 

to feed them 

from its own 

black earth. 

Returning 

could only 
mean death 
to them now,
limbs pruned back 

and roots shaken
free of dirt, 

but they cannot 

belong here either, 

no matter 

how long their 

shadows 

are painted 

across the 

water.