In this world of jagged troubles,
spread here, there, everywhere,
where shall I find my peace
among the thorns and the
roses, in the distress and
the yearning for human love?

Where shall I find this peace
as a crown jewel to rule over
all my anguish and pain and
bring the tenderness I seek?

Shall it be in my garden, this
holy sanctuary set apart that
returns to Eden and sits hidden
in trees away from the pungent
smoke of the warring world?

There I sit with tea and thoughts,
among the birds, distant and
contained in this ancient place.

But I am summoned forward
from this retreat (heaven help me),
and I am returned to the world in
my thoughts, for I cannot escape
my human will to seek the good
among the pain, the fray, the silent
desperation carved on faces that
are far from my garden and in
another place that I did not create.

For I am a carrier of peace, an agent,
bearing this jewel outward in moving,
in leaving my garden and taking a little
of its brilliance into the troubled world,
to do what I can, not as seeker but giver,
and perhaps, maybe, that’s where peace
is located: not in the sitting but in being
the quiet messenger for a better way.

 

7/5/2026