The juniper tree lines the sidewalk
Bent and broken, as it calls out to me in warning
Unheeded, I continue onward
Until I reach the place of my destination
Home
Or rather the place it used to be
What was left of what we used to be
Before we changed
Before you changed us
I find irony that even in the juniper berries
I smell the smell that has haunted me for so long
How long, this I can no longer recall
Tell me
When was it that you stopped reaching for my hand
And reached for the bottle instead
Taking comfort in the burning liquid
As mom cried in her room
And us children shook in the closet
Hoping you would not come find us
And ply us with physical pain
To go along with the emotional ones that already covered our young bodies
I promised myself that I would get out as soon as I could
And never come back to you
And that is what I did
Until this day
I know that maybe I should forgive you
I know that you were just weak
Bent and broken, like the tree of your favorite drink
Today is your funeral
And I am not even sad
And so I am back
Walking past the juniper tree
Empty, numb
I blame that tree
Almost as much as I blame you
I hate you so much
You changed us
You changed me
You wrecked my home
And dad...
you forever wrecked that tree.