“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

 

0 Points

Previous Article

Next Article


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.