A garden enclosed
I have waited for this garden for so long, looking for it in small towns, near monasteries, beside fields and streams. But it is enclosed in my heart. This is my home, my mother’s home from the beginning of time, where I am complete. A deep breath passes through.
There are old-growth trees here, clear springs, a treasury of plants, the wild rose. Prayers write themselves, a doctrine of signatures in every leaf, petal, stone. And the garden says, this is your home.