Weeping willow women
Our branches are breaking
From the burden of this waiting
we crack knuckles like ice trays
our panic mimics heart failure
and how poetic it is to break this way
we hold hope in caverns where bones sleep
eyes weak
heavy from the weight of water
we are standing in an ocean of oysters
shucked of our pearls we are
waiting for the sand to creep in again
to create for you diamonds
because sometimes we are unpredictable
gypsies let us be your fortress
futures told in palm readings
we are hand holders
weeping willow women stretch out your branches
we are tree trunk
sturdy clothed in this bark of betrayal
sometimes sitting silently in autumn morning
makes us regret our roots
we are birthed in apologies
like barbed wire in our throats
we have come undone
we are waiting for anything to hold us open like water lilies
unfolding lightening the way hands do
open to you waiting
waiting for the static in our chests to turn to butterflies again
waiting for the lightening bugs in stomachs to set souls on fire
waiting for our insides to not feel like abandoned buildings
hearing the echoes of heartbeats in our ribcage
we are not broken open
we are holding ourselves together the way bark does
wrap your branches around you tightly
wait for the storm to pass my weeping willow women
lift your heads up we are
caught in this torrential downpour daily
let the thunder be your voice
speak clearly with all your anger and abandon
drumming birthed beats breaking mountains
we are breaking moon chunks
to build rivers in veins again
shove your roots back into the earth
steady yourself and wait
We are the moon, the tide the sun that rises
we are givers, lovers, thinkers, mothers
we scrape the marrow from our bones
to give strength to others
and ask nothing in return
we return to the pasts that did not break us yet
we questions ourselves more than we find answers
we break, we heal
we hold oceans in our skin
grow forests from our limbs
we are dream catchers, wind dancers, creators
weeping women pulling branches from our bodies
planting willows in the ground
whole trees can grow from us
every time we break we give birth to ourselves
never the same but stronger
the scars on our trunks map out our pasts like tree rings
how long has it been since the last time you broke?