The dark soil closes 

around the fragile roots of the tree

Like cupped hands folding 

around the words of a secret prayer 

Some times our prayers 

are like this 

Our words are fragile 

and we don't know what to say 

Some times it is difficult to know 

why light or love might seem to disappear 

And why doors seem to close 

around our deepest wishes 

But it is in this little room of the soul - 

the place in the body deep inside 

that is like a hole formed in warm earth - 

where the first signs of growth appear 

Meanwhile the baby tree

unfurls and leans into the sun

This leaning is what it means to trust 

and give faith to what holds us

Not only that 

It is to move into that place in the heart

that is suddenly ready 

Like cupped hands folding 

around the words of a secret prayer