Grandfathers Say by Naomi Shihab Nye

Grandfathers say the garden is deep, old roots twisted beyond our worry or reach. Maybe our grief began there, in the long history of human suffering, where rain goes when it soaks out of sight. Savory smoke from ancient fires still lingers. At night you can smell it in the stones of the walls. When you awaken, voices from inside your pillow still holding you close.

— Tiny Journalist by Naomi Shihab Nye (Page 100)