‘The Old Weeping Tree’-Original
A poem in dedication to a cousin who died of breast cancer at a very young age and a metaphoric teardrop for myself.
Our memories haunt me as I sit beside you,
on a bed of green, beneath our weeping tree.
Leaves heavy with laughter though obscure,
and those damned white cells we endured.
Scalding diamonds burn trails from my eyes,
shapeless by moonlight as I cry in rage
to that unseen cloudy mass far away,
and I ask them why. Why did I have to die?
The envelope of night inflicts misery,
sealed above us incasing memories
of winged ghosts guiding me
to the lights of death.
Black curtains of pain embrace your face,
like a midnight fog above the sea.
HIS word I keep like water to willow leaves
that someday together our breaths shall
meet as I cry with you beneath our old weep tree.