The tree weeps the threads of her patience.
A thinning web of tangled knots upon
a crumbling bridge of doubt
on the edge of a raging river.
She treads rapids of indecision.
A hue of emotions and thoughts
rush against her skin, drowning her
in pain, and robbing her of voice.
she silently calls out to Hera
Crouching against the weeping tree,
she prays for the guidance to know
the strength to decide which way
the twisted old branch points to go.
a few threads of patience are left
She listens to her inner voice
leaving the weeping tree behind
a torn heart walks her path alone.
pictures thanks to Google images