Beneath the Willow Tree

When I’m gone, visit me beneath the willow tree that sits upon the hill - you know the one.

The willow that hosted our tea parties as children and safeguarded our secrets as we grew.

She remembers us, you know. Do you hear her when she calls?

The full, hypnotic rustle of her leaves sending thoughts most dear during times of need.

A fallen leaf on the sidewalk nearby to remind you of simpler times.

Whispers through the wind of old memories to drown out those that haunt you.

Gently reminding us that no judgement or fear exists beneath her canopy - only raw acceptance.

When the heaviness of life becomes too much to bare, and pain seeps into my veins, I find myself upon the hill.

I speak my sorrows to her leaves, and she wraps them up tightly and holds them near.

In time, details of these sorrows spread across her vines and twist into a humble branches, adding to her collection. Alchemising humble pain into natural function and rebirth.

Maybe someday, i’ll see you again.

Until then..

When the wind calls me back to the hill and her leaves guide me home to rest

and find yourself wondering where in the universe I could be, come and visit the willow.

Sit with her in silence, study her wholeness, and read my story through her branches.

Find my name in her vines, feel my hand grasping yours as you reach for the leaves

and know i am at home, finally at peace, beneath the willow tree.