Sometimes the fragile are stronger in the worst of times.
A Chinese Weeping Willow tree,
I shelter fragile flowers beneath me.
Try to breath life into those in my care,
So many suffer now from deep despair.
My slender green leaves
blow gently as our world grieves.
The storm coming is so profound.
I refuse to be uprooted from hallowed ground.
I weep over what I cannot protect.
All innocent children from neglect.
Elders have deep roots from ancient springs.
The young often refuse wisdom I bring.
Deep in the round circles of age,
I carry grace in spite of the rage.
When angry ones approach with hate,
I whisper gentle words to help liberate.
The radiant sun replenishes me.
I will grow old gracefully,
knowing I have tried, in spite of fears.
To endure, nourish, to thrive for years.
By Kathie Stehr