Sunday, January 01, 2006

My Sacrament

I cannot really pray in the belly of a church, walls made by the hands of men, surrounded by white-costumed, noose-necked 12-year-old boys marching to the beat of The Drum.

Give me the sky, and the wind, mountains, bees and birdsong. With wild grasses in my fingers, there I find my maker, and weep in sweet loving arms.

2 comments:

luminainfinite said...

beautiful you....

Jason and Emily said...

I introduced Monica to my blogging world to help her understand how we've all connected now.

...You just happened to have written this beautiful entry...

Monica and I read this together, and we both said, "Mmmm..."