It has been through the tears, the pain, the breaking down into nothingness that an old self has died and a new one has emerged. Up, up, up and out of the ashes, dusting off my naked body, I find my new self stronger peaceful, nearly unshakeable.
I look to the sky and the world around me for guidance and my gaze stops on the sleepy branches of the mighty Weeping Willow. I see myself in her. She is strong but sways so surely in the wind. Though weeping she may be, she remains silent and true to herself.
And though the storms rage on around her, she stands ever tall and proud. And while the thunder rolls and claps its song and the lightning threatens to strike, she holds her arms up high. Boughs resilient, supple. She believes, as I believe, in her power, her inner strength.
Down on my knees, fallen, these tears wash away like purifying rains from the heavens. I wrap myself up in these pale willow leaves and sing myself back to sleep.
Rock-a-by
Rock-a-by
Rock-a-by
