It's hard to believe that one day soon
this slender sapling will give you shade
from high-summer's heat; the rowan
is little more than a stick but last year
we said that about the fig we planted
yet just before you died I picked a fruit;
how bitter-sweet is the song thrush
aubade as it pecks at cascading scarlet
drupes, your tenancy only just begun.
Right now I can't say when but before
our tree's full grown I will lie alongside
you and then its tender roots will find us,
wrapping around our earthly remains to
bind us in our mutual promise that one
day soon we'll be inseparable again.
January 2023
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Anyone who visits a loved one must connect with those sentiments.