basket of water

I set down the burden of grief at my feet
It becomes the cushion on which I rest
Touching the earth with head bowed

I am capable of carrying this burden now,
Learned to balance its weight on my sturdy head
Like a bag of rice or basket of water
My women ancestors may have carried on theirs

But I am also strong enough now
To see that I have arrived home
that this grief, once mine to carry, can be left at
The doorstep, I have completed the journey
From the river to my blooming garden

My pain can be set now among the lavender
Still to bloom, the white roses singing of
sweet new love, the river still echoing in
My ears. Dear pain, I will always know you,
For you have crafted this little doorway,
That wooden nook for resting

I will not turn away from you, I will bathe you
In the rainbow light of the setting sun
And let the flowers bloom as I
Dance freely in the warm summer rain
My pain mixing with the tears of the sky
To form the nourishment for autumn’s harvest.