“Chinook Sanctuary”


Having descended into silence,

I face a wooden structure.

The Sanctuary breathes before me, so I enter with rain on my skin.


Completely empty

it welcomes the emptiness in me, called to prayer the easy prayer of

simple breathing.


This is how a church should be, the joining of warm wood together

making walls invisible, calling us to join in, not leave behind the life outside the door. A church vulnerable to fire and water,

a prayer vessel floating in the forest


Mesmerized by amber tree lines ringing around me, I knew courageous

prayers are said in places like this with wood, not stone listening.


I knew utter joy sweeps through places like these,

a shelter, not an escape. Unfettered by damp rock and twisted metal

hidden behind stained glass, lead lined but a living, breathing wild

church, for

wild prayers.


And though the air is still, a silent gale rows through this singing space.

This silent cathedral among the moss.

My skin thirsts again for rain, my soul

a falling acorn, a hazelnut floating.


Grant yourself refuge here, grasp these sacred seconds, and call your

soul your own.


Mícheál Moley Ó Súilleabháin


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