the weeping willow

Have you ever looked at a weeping willow?

She hangs her head,
Her exhausted limbs shake.
She weeps for her lost love.

She longs to break down and cry,
But she knows to do this is to die.
So she moves with the winds
And through this she lives.

Her dance is sorrow, not so much shame.
She moves slower, gently now.

Her sobs whisper softly
As her brances sway slowly.

Quietly.
Fading fast.

All she knows is that she must bend,
Or else break.

Her fears are rising.

Is she as lost to herself
As the one she once clung to?
The one she once depended on?
The one she knows she could always trust - forever.
Her one true love.

After the rains abate
The tears glisten as they run down her cheeks.
Little rivulets.
They are pulled thinner, longer,
And she finally feels stronger.

The sun shines upon her
To dry her tears away.
She is glad that she could bend
And not break.

To be rooted, steadfast, but always pushing,
Making room to grow,
Even as she wants to shrink and shy away.

The good and the bad;
One fortifies the other.

The clash of wanting the relief of cool tears
To wash her worries out of her mind,
And wanting to bask in the glory and warmth
Is always there, always present.

She is torn between pleasure and pain.
To be taken to her limit and pushed over it
Allows her to grow.

She shall run and not be weary,
Walk and not faint.

And the glory and greatness shall reign...
Triumphantly... Eternally...
Because no matter how many times
She bends her head to cry...

She will survive.
The moving, bending, growing.

She will not be broken.
She refuses to die.

You can neve break her,
Even as she lies
Vulnerable and seeking,
Striving to know...

She she hangs her limbs
And weeps for things that cannot be so.

Until the storm is past.

Then she will know.

KN. no date (97-99)