May Your Soul Be at Home Where There Are No Houses
Where the grasses press beneath your feet on the path, let this be your hallway.
Where your eyes meet the tips of the mountains, let this be your haven.
Where the waves gently lick your ankles, let this be your cleansing.
Where the stars outline the sky like a table cloth of lace, let this be your library.
Where the moon sings her ancient song, let this be your lullaby.
Where the animals slumber beneath the rich earth, may you find your roots.
Where the trees sway in the winds of change, let their ways be your teacher.
Where rain pours on parched grounds, let this be your time to dance!
May your soul be at home where there are no houses.
Poem written by Fawn (me!); @ Women Wellness Weekend 2007