Family Tree

• Luca Picchio, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2019

The family tree is forever a part of me, if not for it than who would I be?
Who would we be, me and my history, the O’Neill clan, the fam
Who would become over 30 strong, I wonder how we came to be?
We are a map in the branch of this fully grown seed - His great plan.
Above our heads it’s fingers spread, tracing our living and our dead
we lie down on the cool grass below and listen to the sounds:
lorikeets screech, waves wash against the beach, peace in my head
The silent silver trunk, gnarled and strong, wisdom unbound.
Every christmas the family gathers, a leaf for every memory,
With every dawn a new leaf is born; with dusk, fall it must
The cycle of life continues endlessly, a fallen leaf for our lost ancestry
A new branch for little sophie, a new generation we trust.
The sisters, a race, fairly skinned; the sun burns them till chagrined
The hot- headed are calmed by an air of serenity, of wind
But the tree protects all and the red hair truly defines
The roots of the big ol’ Moreton Bay Fig are the O’Neill bloodlines.