That you can pare your burdens to a small bundle
Light enough to tuck under your friend’s sack
While you stand, face to the wind
Knowing not whether the sea will come in for you
Knowing not who will bother to carry your burdens on
Can there be a saving hill, high above the rushing wave?
Look for the roots of the leaning tree.
It has given refuge to many children of an East wind.
Fertile earth, long reaching roots, tall supple branches that remain open…
Open, that you can always see the sky between the branches.