- Books, Literature, and Writing
The Lady is mourning the seasons’ passing.
Or is it something else?
Rain is falling, and falling
Sun has not shown His face today on this muddied earth
Drenched in tears
Flooded streams running over with grief
Fallen trees lie in a humble salute to those souls taken with the pregnant moons and lost to the new.
And soon, yes, Spring will offer a new beginning.
But first, give proper due to the heart that yearns to mourn; heavy with tears that fall today.
Walk silently and softly as she breathes and rests; it is only the Lady’s respite.
As she wakes from her restless nap still covered in these cold clouds, gray sticks and wet stones,
She remembers; and the wailing winds start again.
She cannot be comforted.
Her tears, the driving rains; and in torrents they fall
The images She sees in her mind, voices She hears this day, tear wide open the deep ache in her heart no one can console.
Darkness falls on what no light can comfort.
We all stand circling
Witness to what we in our hearts almost understand
For today, we too cannot escape torrential rains
We are pulled along on the waves of intense grief and the calm before another storm.
Bound helplessly in the dark listening to the growling winds
Anguish tearing our hearts and souls
Reminding us that we too have death somewhere knocking
And we must feel the weight of it as surely as we will feel the warmth and beauty of spring.