No Title, No More

I'm a willow among the trees,

My branches sway in tune.

Although the winds come from around the world,

They all know my name.

It's whispered among the pines,

And it's shouted across the aspens.

No news of mine is new for them,

No, they already know.

Curse my fellow trees for their beauty in this damp environment,

Damn their full leaves and the animals that grace their branches.

Here I am, in the midst of winter,

Bare and broken still.

The tiny leaves have now fallen,

Taken up by the west winds.

Who decides my future,

Who decides my fate?

I lean my trunk back to look skyward,

Leave my mighty body bent in this manner.

This way, no one can meet my eyes,

I will see no evil on the forest floor.

I know each and every way my roots flow,

The jagged way they cut through the cold ground in winter's chill.

I've seen every leaf that grew then gracefully fell from my branches,

I watched them shrivel and die.

Now I see the sky turn from black to a perfect blue,

It seems to be in harmony with my very broken heart.

With this, all my broken branches, my knotted trunk, my tangled roots,

I was finally at peace ready to be called home.