Fruitless

Sacrifice: A Family Tree in Winter. A Guerrilla Literature poem by Kerr Martin, conceptualized, written and scheduled 1/20/26.

Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

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Is it the ultimate self-sacrifice,
the love that bears no fruit?
Ending a legacy at the heart.
A bloodline sent to the wind with roses.
Not something I could bear,
now that I know your face.
I do not long for emptiness,
it could not take your place.

An altar dressed in private want,
a house kept warm, but never whole.
Love asks nothing of the future,
ancestral leaves are left to fall.
There’s comfort in the chosen dark,
it hums, it soothes, it lets you sleep
until the body starts accounting
for the vows it could not keep.

When nothing answers from behind you,
will you confront the choices made?
You cannot take the belongings with you,
but leave someone to tend the grave.

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