Poem: The Veil Beyond the Weeping Tree

Beneath the boughs where silence sighs,
Where moonlight pools in ancient eyes,
A whisper stirs the twilight air—
“Let go, child soul, no longer wear
The robes of sorrow are woven tight
In threads of shadow, loss, and night.”

A silver stag with eyes of flame
Steps forth and calls you by your name.
Not loud, but soft—like dream-swept dew—
“I’ve come to walk this path with you.”
The stars lean low, the forest bends,
The roots recall where all pain ends.

You follow where the spirits go,
Past veil and vale, through ash and snow.
A river hums of lives once passed,
Its waters still, its depth so vast.
Each tear you shed becomes a star—
A guiding light from realms afar.

A voice within the stream now speaks,
In language lost to mountain peaks:
“To grieve is love in slow disguise—
But love must live, not fossilize.
Let not your soul be bound in pain—
The ones you lost still speak in rain,
In wind, in fire, in feathered flight—
They live within your second sight.”

You reach a clearing veiled in blue,
Where all things end, and start anew.
There, lay the grief upon the ground—
It fades without a parting sound.
A crystal tree begins to grow
From roots released, from letting go.

And in its leaves you see their face—
Not gone, but changed, in endless grace.

Thank-you for reading.

Much Love and Light,

Brenda Marie