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Poetry

The ramblings of a woman who spent too much time in confession and too little time trying to figure out what exactly she was apologizing for.

WEEPING WILLOW

65 8 4

by __evemarie

by __evemarie

I am sorry I did not know
you when you were younger.

I would have reached into the fire and
pulled your soul from the remnants of
your father's anger,

and stood witness to your phoenix heart's rebirth.

I would have filled the empty spaces between
your mother's silence and your sincere prayers
with something like warmth.

I would have known how to give, then.

The storms would not have had
authority to rattle your bones,
your name the power to define you.

When you would leave,
I'd ask where you were going.
I'd ask you to come back home.

I am sorry I did not know you
when you were younger.
I would have been better, having done so.

You would have been loved.