your tree of sorrow

inside you
is a tree of sorrow,
where you hang
your pain
in all it hues,
on branches
growing
into the sun,

and while you sit
in the shade
of its leaves
still green,
stop and ponder
which ones to leave,
and which ones to take
with you
as you move on,

then walk around
with your weary heart,
thanking every leaf,
now poised
in a poignant silence,
for making you
whole
and broken,

and then leave,
without a glance
to see
what you've left behind,
taking with you
some leaves with holes -
reminders that tell you
what you must love
so much,

so you can
pour the sun
into those holes
from where
you were born,
filling you with a fire
to serve the world,
while the sun bleeds
into a brand new dawn.