This poem is hyperlinked to an article I wrote for Phoebe, MD: Medicine + Poetry (https://phoebemd.com/2020/03/21/grief-healing-through-poetry/). The article is based on my poetry podcast Grief: Fire and Ice (https://meelosmom.podbean.com/e/grief-fire-and-ice/).
When the old willow weeps,
her shoulders bow to the Light,
for her ancient tears sing
in tune with the spheres.
The Light binds limbs to leaves
and defies the shade.
Her skirt, a shelter to the fallen,
makes good blankets and walls.
Her learning and duty, her strength
in harmony and balance
to stand firm in storms.
We go to her.
Our pain, her food
transmuted into swords and light
for our battles and healing.
In her tears, no regret.
Grief and despair stand aside
in this humble Sallow of Time.
We bow to her
Copyright© 2017/10/05 Barbara Harris Leonhard @extraordinarysunshineweaver.blog; firstname.lastname@example.org (Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul)