Blackberry bush

Everyone said: don’t go into the tangle

where daylight gets caught and stays

A blackberry bush like a jungle

grew steady through our days

sweet in July, ink-dark by August

perfume and promised gold

every time I came back marked by it

the sweetness comes to the bold

And the blackberries ripen

and the blackberries teach the hearts

how to reach for something tender

how to breach the cutting shards

I washed my fingers at the sink

the water always too cold

Don’t cry. Don’t make it bigger. Smile.

I tried doing what I was told

In our home we kept the language

only for what sounded fine

the rest grew under the tongue at night

like a thorn that won’t resign

And the blackberries ripen

and the blackberries teach the hearts

how to reach for something tender

how to breach the cutting shards

My mother said it was my blame

There was truth in her patient tone

“If you hadn’t—” “If you didn’t—”

“If you would’ve just left it alone.”

It made my fear a household chore

my tears a mess to mop

and when I broke into myself

They asked why I couldn’t stop

And the blackberries ripen

and the blackberries teach the hearts

how to reach for something tender

how to breach the cutting shards

Don’t go into the bramble bush

See what you did? Now look

he’s angry because you pushed him

You brought out the thorn, you shook

Don’t go into the bramble bush

It wasn’t about the yard

It meant: don’t ask, don’t need, don’t cry

Just please don’t make it hard

Don’t go into the bramble bush

Keep your voice low. Keep it sweet

Don’t bring a problem to the kitchen

Don’t bleed where they can see

I learned how to harvest quietly

palms open, skin unbraced

I laughed too loud when the bramble

caught my sleeve like a familiar place

I filled a bowl with dark planets

offered them up on a white plate

later swallowed the metal taste

of every word I didn’t make

Don’t go into the bramble bush

It grows inside your chest

a rule that says your safety

depends on being less

Now I go back differently

Not for a fruit, for what's true

I cut a narrow path through the thicket

let light do what the light can do

I teach my kids other trails

where hands come home still whole

where sweetness isn’t something earned

by bleeding out your soul

I let the blackberries ripen,

I let the blackberries heal the land

I choose a kinder summer

where no cut pays for love in hand

I found the bramble in my thinking

a soft command, a coiled refrain

how quick my tongue can learn the weather

how fast my love can turn to “same”

It isn’t fate, but it is knowledge:

what grows unchecked will spread its thread

So I watch for vines in my voice now

and pull them up before they’re fed

I hold my children like a promise,

not something owed, not something won

I will not hand them down the tangle

as if it’s all we’re living on

I’ll name the dark, I’ll make it smaller,

I’ll let their bright be loud and long,

and when the bramble calls me homeward

I’ll choose the path that breaks the song