Mt. Auburn Cemetery, August

I want to be a willow

at the water’s edge,

find myself floating

over you, face to face

gravity making

strands of my hair

the willow’s

graceful

downward

drape.

What I have to offer you

is only somewhat similar

perhaps not very much similar,

not near exact in the least little bit.

What I have to offer you

lacks the grace

the timeless wisdom

the steadfast nature

of that willow at the pond.

What I have to offer you

is intermittent,

sometimes sporadic,

assuredly inconsistent.

There are other gifts:

a ready, real smile,

a certain sense of your true beauty,

the offering and satisfaction of my flesh;

The chance to risk a good-bye,

the opportunity to lose me,

the possibility to remain whole.

I want to be the peace of that willow:

all that sway without weakness.

all that strength without rigidity.

For now, I will hover

just above you,

my hair cascading down,

caressing your cheek

our bodies the pond

that slakes the willow’s thirst.

(cc) Karen G. Johnston