A poem for you...
There were these women
whose beauty was preceded by their sadness
(their sorrows took root)
& the world placed all of its weight on them with no remorse
(their aching branched)
& never turned back to see the women ossify
(genesis: weeping willows)
(And the tales tell that women only transform through grief
So where does that leave you, daughter?
What branch of heartache does that leaf you in?)