The willow tree

-




Willow Tree

A soft wind blows through your delicate branches,

weaving, whispering, bending.

A stronger wind pushes and pulls at your beautiful arms, scattering

your leaves, changing your appearance.

The storms rage and you dance.  You bend but you do not break.

The wind makes your back stand straighter.

It makes you stronger.

Your limbs sway in a glorious dance before your Maker.

Your roots grip the soil, curl around

stone and earth.  You are steady.

You stand.  Unbroken.

For a friend.

Comments

  1. AnonymousNovember 5, 2011 at 6:15 PM

    Beautiful, just beautiful...you have a wonderful gift of expression! Thank you for sharing :)

    Joy F.

    ReplyDelete
  2. AnonymousNovember 14, 2011 at 1:32 PM

    What a beautiful poem, thanks for sharing it. :)

    Krista

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

April 18, 1984

-
Image
I awake in a bit of a fog, only slightly aware of the telephone ringing.  We got in late last night.  Long past our bedtime.  I can hear my father in the kitchen, his muffled conversation floating upstairs to my room.  It's just before 8.  We've slept in.  I'll have to rush to get ready for school this morning.  My father slowly climbs the stairs and I turn to see him enter my bedroom.  He is tired and carries a strange expression on his face.  He reaches my bedside and takes a seat.  He isn't looking at me, but out my bedroom window to the hillside and winding road.  When he faces me again tears have formed in his eyes.  He covers my hand with his and tells me my mother is gone.  His words get lost in a sudden release of grief.  I turn my head into my pillow, tears flowing.  I'm not completely certain of what he's said, I'm hoping I've misunderstood, but know I have not.  He sits for awhile on my bed and we both silently weep.  Without a word h
Read more

Twenty Seven Years

-
Image
My first birthday Normally I see this day coming and anticipate it. Today it caught me by surprise. I love this picture of her, although I can't remember her this way. When I remember her last she looked so very different. I have a picture that was taken a few months before she passed away, but I like this one better. Funny, this picture was taken roughly 10 years before she died. I think I need to come back and post this later, it's still early in the day and I need to make it through before I land in a heap thinking about her..... I'm so thankful for my Mom. For the memories I have of her. I think my favourite memory is from when I was 7, 8 or 9, I'm not really sure. Jamie and I had returned to New Glasgow for a weekend to visit friends we had left behind when we moved. I don't know that I was ever away from her. I do remember vividly Saturday night, I was so lonesome for her. There was a snow storm raging outside and I was sure I would never get back home. Thing
Read more

Two kinds of good bye

-
Image
We are saying good-bye. Packing up our little family. Putting familiar things into cardboard boxes. Sealing them shut with nasty packing tape. Dreading the thought of tearing through that plastic frustration to get our stuff out again. Our life is a bit upside down. The house looks like it's been ransacked by a clumsy burglar who was uncertain of what he should take and what he should leave. Odd combinations of things sit in a pile waiting to be put in a proper place. Normal household chores have been put on hold while we wade through the disjointed contents of our homey house. This saying good bye is somewhat easy in the grand scheme of things. We have control over our going. We get to choose where we'll live, what schools our children will attend, what side of town we'll live on. We can even decide what furniture gets to come with us and what item will be written up in a hastily posted ad on kijiji. We get to leave as a family. Our physical home displaced, if only
Read more