The Roots of the Willow Tree

by Kara Emily Krantz


The weeping willow whispered to me, wrapped me

in her draping fingers

and allowed me to Be for a while.

 

(I never could forget that smile.)

 

He was there; I glanced at him with grace in my eyes,

and his fingers played upon strings

as his voice offered melodies to the sky.

 

I wanted to say something, but I didn’t even try.

 

There were too many moments

colliding into that one October night.

 

and I could barely decipher the moonlight

from the soil beneath my hands.

 

My patchwork dress wrapped around my legs;

I gazed at the ground by my side,

and breathed.

 

I could feel the willow’s roots beneath me,

her feathery promises around me…

and quite suddenly I felt safe in the world.

 

He was far away, where the music was, and

I was alone with the weeping willow and the stars.

 

All these moments were there -between us-

as moonlight danced upon water

and I contemplated how deep the willow’s roots reached into the earth.

 

We drank from that bottle of wine / as though it would somehow stop time;

as though the music would never end, and

that tree could weep forever.

 

As though that tree would weep forever.

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