Come to the orchard of sacred imagination
Come, be with yourself
In sounds of the sitar
And orange blossom’s scented sweetness.
Bring your anger and sorrow
Empty them upon the earth, lie down.
Let these be roots for your dreams.
Be still. Listen to earth’s solace.
Grown from grief
Stand in greater courage
Asking fear to open you in song.
Did emptiness not teach reluctant fingers to pick
First strings on the lute?
Come now, enter the orchard
Clothed in hope
Abandoned to your dance,
Kneel and kiss the ground.