Quote: "This is what knowledge does. It doesn't bring anything closer to you. It separates you. Drowns you in loneliness." - Eternal Ruin, by Author Tigest Girma
As I was drawing this tree, I began to think about my lingering ideologies surrounding trees and plants—and the wisdom they carry. For a deeper reflection on this, be sure to check out my last blog post, What the Trees Taught Me.
As I sketched, its feminine energy began to reveal itself to me. You can see the tree’s hips, the womb resting at the very base of the trunk. The spiraled trunks remind me of parts of the body—legs and thighs in the lower regions, arms and shoulders above.
At the ends of each trunk hang delicate roots, and as I drew them, the first word that came to mind was “weep.” By the time I finished, the image resembled a soul just as much as it did a tree.
The piece left me in awe, as it appears just as sorrowful as it does beautiful. The tree looks as though it’s in mid-motion, as if it wants to run. And that’s when it struck me—there’s nowhere for her to go. The world we live in today doesn’t seem to care about the life of a tree, or even the life it gives us.
Weeping Willow is my metaphorical depiction of the Divine Feminine—Mother Nature herself. So I wrote a poem in honor of her.
I present to you, The Weeping Willow.
The Weeping Willow
The Weeping Willow has no place to be.
She walks, she strides,
with a false sense of pride as she pretends to feel seen.
And all she wants to do is sleep.
All she wants to do is breathe.
She craves silence.
But the unloving brings violence.
And the hurt of it all
has grown into a numbing ache
she can no longer take.
So, she digs up her roots as she drifts towards
what she perceives as an escape.
But it's too late.
The world is too hard.
The world is too cold.
And there's no room for grace.
No one left to embrace,
So, she weeps.
And what was once full of life and pride
has slowly begun to die.
She hopes to wake one day,
to see that it was a dream full of lies,
because the only truth she wants is peace.
But until then, she weeps.
And when it gets too tough,
and enough is enough,
she just sits,
and be.
Because the weeping willow has no place to be.
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