Take the time to pray—
it is the sweet oil that eases the hinge into the garden
so the doorway can swing open easily.
You can always go there.
Consider yourself blessed.
These stones that break your bones
will build the altar of your love.
Your home is the garden.
Carry it’s odor, hidden in you, into the city.
Suddenly your enemies will buy seed packets
and fall to their knees to plant flowers
in the dirt by the road.
They’ll call you Friend
and honor your passing among them.
When asked, “Who was that?” they will say,
“Oh, that one has been beloved by us
since before time began.”
This from people who would have trampled over you
to maintain their advantage.
Give everything away except your garden,
Your worry, your fear, your small-mindedness.
Your garden can never be taken from you.
~ Lynn Park