Was this the apple then

Was this the apple,then,your mother’s breast
Which father thought was his to oft caress?
And when ,in deprived rage,you bit to test.
In anger he  would  ever you harass.

 

So then you learned that you could hate as well,
For punishment struck hard in your small heart.
Your memory was wordless ,could not tell;
Though pain and anguish made your  soft skin smart.
As unknown as the journey to your birth
As shocking as the grief of unmeant wrong..
As frightening as the gauging of your worth
As sudden as the ending of a song.
Impossible to foretell or to prepare,
The ambivalence of the heart  starts here.