Sanctuary

Sanctuary

In the sanctuary of
my soul
the opening service does
not begin with
the cascading sounds
of bells chiming in unison

No, instead it is
the song of the cicadas
and the symphony of forest
insects all echoing at once
a dance of rhythmic
sounds

The sweet incense is not
the smoke from a candle’s
wick ascending through
every living, breathing cell

No, instead it is the
tender pine draped in
drops of falling rain
filling the air with
aromas never to be duplicated

The first reading
followed by the second
a responsorial psalm
flows yet without words

Each sentence a blade
of grass lifting its head
to the reader who ‘sees’

Each chapter a leaf
especially the one falling to
the ground, dying and yet
rising to a newness beyond
understanding

The Gospel…
mountain peaks,
treacherous terrain
an invitation to
an inward descent
pausing
in mystery
re-framing all
that once seemed
to make sense

Communion…
the lotus flower
floating on a clear
pond
its soft pink petals
‘bread’
it roots filled
with the sweet
essence of
‘wine’

I taste
the goodness
of creation
in this
living sanctuary

No doors
the entry way
an invitation
for all

The table…
endless
alive
the supper
in this sanctuary
always open to
receive

 

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Comments

Sanctuary — 1 Comment

  1. I have never seen sketches come alive like these. Truely from her heart and soul Sandy makes it real. Keep up the miraculous work.

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