Fall From Grace Poem by Emmanuel Vallie

Fall from grace
Broken limbs from a broken soul—
What's the point of being in a race?

Dying roots held firm the soil,
So new seeds might grow and bear fruit.

Barely had we spread our branches,
Promising green leaves and flowers,
Only to bloom and bear nothing.

We, breakers of the generational curse,
Only multiplied it threefold—
That's when the truth began to unfold.

Expectations upon expectations,
With no exemption.

A lineage unaligned,
For we never knew the history—
Only fragments of falling from grace.

Broken limbs from a broken soul.
What's the point of being in a race?