A garden enclosed

I have waited for this garden for so long, looking for it in small towns, near monasteries, beside cottages. But it is enclosed in my heart. This is my home, my maternal home from the beginning of time, where I am complete unto myself. A deep breath passes through me.

There are old-growth trees here, clear springs, a pharmacopoeia of plants, the scent of rose. Prayers write themselves – a doctrine of signatures in every leaf, petal, stone. And the garden says, this is your home.  

Julia Casciola ©