RESTORING
for Joan Crisona
He died on June twenty-first,
the bright sun's summer solstice,
the beginning of decrease,
my own plunge into shadow.
He quickened my mirrored light,
gave our joined life its purpose,
quelled my fire tempered self,
left an abyss in passing.
Into that hole I will plant
a willow, nurturing it
with my tears until both tree
and I are strong, gestated
by the mother womb darkness,
receiving, remembering
the wisdom of love's exchange,
ready for rebirth in Spring.
Kaaren Whitney
Samhain 2006
