By: Aaron Geerts
A little boy asks the Weeping Willow, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, why do you weep? Are you sad because your long hair that makes you look different from every other tree?”
The Willow Tree responds, calm and sad, “No my child, that is not why I weep.”
The boy asks again, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, why do you weep? Are you ashamed of your body and must cover it from those who peep?”
“No, my child, that is not why I weep,” responds the Willow Tree.
More determined, the boy asks again, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, why do you weep? I know! You fear the lumberjack’s axe, that it will cut you deep!”
“No, my child,” responds the Willow Tree.
Once more, the boy asks, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, why do you weep? Is it for your leaves you fear? That they’ll be nibbled on by the hungry mouths of the farmer’s sheep?”
“No, my child,” responds the Willow Tree.
“Then why, Willow Tree? Why do you weep? What is this secret that you keep?”
The Weeping Willow opens her branches to reveal the boy’s tiny grave and responds, “We used to play all day and night, but when sickness took you, that which was stolen from me was your youthful light. This is why, my child, your death is the secret that I keep, the reason I weep. For within my shade is where you will forever sleep.”
The boy sighs and says, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, it’s okay to mourn, time comes to an end for all things that are born.”
The Willow Tree lowers her branches and continues to weep. Stuck in a sadness beyond root deep.
The ghostly boy draws closer and says, “The time was too soon for me to go, but like you, all those I leave behind must continue to grow.”
“Oh child, my child,” the Willow Tree says. “We will no longer be able to play.”
The boy laughs, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, that is not true! I am the wind that will come to visit you! When I return, you will not weep but sway. As I flow through leaf and limb, you will know I am back to play.”
“Oh child, my child,” says the Willow Tree. “Your words are pure and none of them lies. How have you grown so old and wise?
The boy shrugs and giggles, “Willow Tree, Willow Tree, we get wrapped up in this thing called life that’s confusing and dense. Only when it’s over does it really begin to make sense.”
With a whisk of wind, the boy’s ghost disappears in laughter, and the Willow Tree no longer weeps, with the understanding that life’s not always a happily ever after..
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