Willow or Oak

The wind cannot be taught kindness,

Nor the storm pleaded to choose a gentler route.

Some are born with roots of iron,

While others sway to spare their strength.

A gale compels the willow to bend,

Each arc mistaken for retreat.

But bending isn’t breaking 

It’s how the tender outsmart defeat.

Stalwart and proud, the oak stands firm,

Its silence carved from stubborn stone.

Yet even mighty trunks will splinter

When the moody sky begins to groan.

The shape of soul, the weight of skin,

Call it fate or call it birth.

You’re either made to bend or break,

And life decides which one is worth.

Sip & Support