In the dusk of troubled days, Where shadows stretch and linger, I find the earth beneath my feet: An ancient ground of holding, Soft as a mother’s arms, Mark my place with flowers, That overlook the valleys, And remind the wind to sing.

Oh, tender earth, with roots entwined, In every heartbeat, every hymn, Cradle me in your fertile grace, Where I can breathe and begin again, To find my way back to the light, That dances on the edges of the night.

• Laura Riding Jackson