Living Tree Poetry

I want you to be a house,
with a steep roof off which the rain can run.
i want you to have windows draft proof,
to shield against the elements,
and doors with good locks
and solid frontages.

I want you to have curtains and insulation,
a fireplace, a warm soft bed.
I want you to have mornings
when the sun rises in full view of your front window,
that you might stand and worship.
And evenings,
where the only lights are the stars and the moon.

That the dark peace of stopping
and resting may make of your house
a haven of respite, a place to retreat.
Yes, I want you to be a whole house stocked
that you don’t need anything.
And that the centre of everything may
draw you into safety, security.

I want for you, peace,
that the house of your soul
would serve as the battlements
against the stress that weakens,
causing you to doubt yourself.
To curl in tight for protection.

And yes, I want you to look in my eyes
and see how you are loved.
How everything starts with how
you perceive yourself,
and finishes with how you receive
the gift of another’s bare heart.

Love, after all, bringing it’s own medicine,
and the life to light up a house.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
July 2021

“Oh, soul, you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less, why do you worry?
You are, in truth, the soul of the soul
Of the soul of the soul.”

– Rumi