I visited my church this afternoon; I call it the Chapel of Heaven Meets Earth.
The ceiling, a great swath of steel blue so heavy, so close,
The weight drapes itself over the tips of the tallest evergreens.
The floors, a cushiony bed of soft pine needles, shuffling
And crackling through the dried leaves, my feet never tire.
The majestic windows are stained with red and gold and russet
And the sun plays with my optic nerves. Pixels of light
Render me blind and then clear; I relish this childlike
Game of hide and seek.
I don’t come here to pray…it is a prayer this place.
But a question did come “what should I be doing?”
I asked the Buddha’s, the Bodhisattvas, Kwan Yin and all
The others before me. The answer comes back “stay
On the path, one foot in front of the other”.
I hate it when they say that, (I’ve asked many times)
And continue on the trail.
The Stations of the Cross in this church are ancient, exposed root systems,
Extending away from massive tree trunks, suggesting I might look down
Every once in a awhile if I don’t want to trip;
Naked, spindly branches closest to the ground and furthest from the sun,
Thundering waterfalls, cascading over 18 inch high boulders (oh, what confidence!),
Invisible fairies shaking and rattling the tangled bush and me…
Peering intently inside, trying to identify the culprits.
My path takes me back to where I began, but now mind and body are one.
So quiet and peaceful, no question no answer, just walking.