The Willow

The sun will rise,
I know it so,
And bask us in its warming glow.

It brings us life.

And it will rise into the sky,
So very high,
Its light will make the Willow grow,
A heartbeat slow.

In the south,
The Willow grows,
Aged and old,
The wind brings change.

And here we stand,
To cry the rain,
Strong arms around a shaking frame.

We wonder,
What could have been?
And remember,
What was.

We cry the rain,
To relieve our pain,
And make the Willow grow.

As we walk,
We walk in pairs,
Strong arms around a life-giving frame,
The evening sun begins to set.

Bleeding feet,
In dampened ground,
We grow.

I know it is so.

Here we love,
And laugh,
And play,
And live,
And grow.

Strong arms around each other’s soul,
We watch the sun set in the west,
Another moment in our lives,
Lost behind.

One last time the river bends.

So when the sun is high,
High in the sky,
To the Willow we will go,
Stand below,
And cry the rain,
To make it grow.

And we will grow,
This I know,
So long as our river flows,
We will grow.