Wild Woman has the opposite of vitality.
Her life force has been ground down
by the whirlygigs and bumper-car
collisions of others.
Even a tree gets tired,
sometimes, of holding up its branches,
eternally entreating the heavens,
tired of supporting the weight
of those who shelter in its branches.
She walks into the forest
to commune with her sisters.
She breathes. She listens. She absorbs.
Along with the raindrops,
balm sluices through her being.
Distress lifts off and flutters away.
When she emerges,
there will still be problems,
clamorous voices, and disharmony.
But there will also be
She returns home
and lifts up her branches
Even a tree gets tired sometimes,
of bearing arms.
But its trunk holds fast
to the end.
for Susan's timely topic at Midweek Motif: Energy/Vitality. I had little yesterday, when I penned this. But a day spent in my fleecy pj's, putting up my tiny tree, greatly improved the situation. Smiles.