One snip of a thorn, and the world is righted again.

One less weapon to hurt its creatures

One wall downed for this beautiful rose

Who thinks the world wants to hurt her

Digging my finger tips through the soil

I find it embraces them

As if they were returning from a journey

A long way from home

It gifts me with the fruits of its roots

Potatoes, carrots, onions

Offering strength for my next journey to come

I thank it with a watering; knowing the rain has not been enough

Though the sun beats down on my back

I welcome her lashings

As without her light,

This garden would be filled with seeds laid to rest in nutrient graves

My breath is held in the cooled soil

And when I dig,

It is released back to my lungs

This populated ground

roots me in serenity

As if I wasn’t meant for anything else.

Whatever I give, it takes

Whatever it takes, it returns back to me fruitfully

A push and pull of sustenance

That I never wish to steady.