Weeping willow

by Devina

(‘Peaceful’ by Dave Mills, via Fine Art America)

She weeps not in her own sorrow

Often though she does not of sadness at all

Tears are salty and wet

Not tainted by emotion

Only until after being spilt

So in her great xylem,

A warm lake waits calmly

So by drops

They would sprinkle forth

As she heaves and sways

Her delicate boughs

The unfeeling tears come alive

Filled with joy that surrounds her in peace

Embedded in despair in the rages of destruction

Of the lives that wither, stunted

Of the dreams that die, unrealized


Her soul is an old one

A gentle, strong and wise one

Most look upon her and see

A hunched ancient woman

Wrinkles etched along the shadows of laughter

She is the grandmother of the forest

The spirit of the land

Lending readily a branch, a limb

To lean on, to laugh on,

To cry on, to swing on

Souls to share, and hurts to mend

© Devina S.

8 Comments to “Weeping willow”

  1. warm chills are better than the cold ones~ that’s how I felt reading !

  2. Absolutely beautiful! I have two old willows on my property. They sweep their beautiful long arms to the creek bank below. All the world of wildlife live there. We’ve named them Thelma and Louise. They hold hands. It’s incredible. Thank you for putting their beautiful living to pen and paper.

  3. Wow, more incredible stuff today–the imagery was very potent, I felt I could see her, even hear her.

  4. Fine words, which came first: the poem or the image (which is also stunning by the way)?

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