Where
Willows Weep
~*Marge Tindal*~
In the land
where willows weep
wind blows with a
gentle hand
The falling of the
tears
saturate the land
The tears of
many fill the streams
where the majestic
willow grows
The salted waterbed
grows deep
with the lessons it
knows
She sways in
uncanny unison
to the beating of
the wind
She moves so
gracefully
never to break ...
only bend
Gently swaying
to and fro
as if to beckon -
as if to say
I hear your songs
of sadness
with your sorrow I
sway
Bending -
bending
swaying to and fro
Gently returning
to her posture
after the winds do
blow
She reminds me
of the structure
of the clan of the
Cherokee
Standing tall and
proud
looking back at me
Blown about
but not blown down
Beaten but never
broken
She speaks to the
spirit within my soul
of courage she is a
token
Standing beside
her
in all her majestic
beauty
Learning a lesson I
will remember
of life and of my
duty
To take the
blows
and return to my
stature
Straight, tall and
proud I am
a work of nature
She tells me
what I need to know
to use the sorrow I
have found
To reach out with
understanding
to try to turn the
world around
The voices of
many
she beckons me to
share
Stories of the
legends of my past
to those who would
care
Returning to the
roots
from whence I came
Reaching out to
others
I am known by the
Cherokee name
So softly spoken
by my people on a
long-ago day
~*Willow White
Feather*~
Softly I sway
© Marge
Tindal
Contact her if you
wish to use this poem
