Willow

I am the willow
stooped and ungainly
from years of solitude and discordant thoughts
They weave together to carve lines in my flesh
but my roots run deep as I seek sweet water
It’s a reckless love, this unquenchable thirst
made worse as I dance in the dusty summer wind
My measureless imagination conjures images
of the long-departed here by the muddy banks
I feel the absence of my ancestors as I sing their song
Clouds of death settle on these old limbs defiantly moving
as if embodying a sapling, as if I could cling to these colors
ever-changing, ever-changing
My roots, they run deeper still
mirroring my gnarled trunk
mirroring scars and sins
as much a part of me as my branches
that sweep across this ancient meadow
I stand proud against the ravages of time and man
I am the willow




Image by Sonya Renee Rose from Pixabay
prompts: Sunday Whirligig, #atreyasverse

Tags: poem, Poetry