Saturday, August 20, 2011
Day 354
4:26 pm; 9:53 pm
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the wheels and the vines walk down the aisle
–
Palms up, fills with fresh lips
the notes of doves and sacrament
for this couple today who walks
toward us, the fearing and the perilous
Truth-Reality, cloudy awakenings
My pagan eyes see ritual spinning
toward me with soft daggers
meant only to capture my attention,
benevolent and casual as the
parishioner’s modern gait, sermon in
between jokes and good eye contact
instinctive self-centeredness, warped world
Young Buddhist spirit feels the wheel
cycling toward the saints pictured on
the cotton and viscose tapestries that
line the walls of this massive tribute
to the god penciled into her childhood
rituals come time for the daily flag salute
memory, the central object of veneration
I can not help but to wonder if we will
pull up our chairs around the circle,
here, to break bread and eat the body
and drink the blood of each other sins,
if it is Heathen to enter into this house
without a chant positioned for prayer or
the slightest clue on how I would place
myself in a vow for lifelong commitment
in the Other Power, I take refuge
My emerging heart is familiar with the
desire for a congregation such as this to
be tied to my history, to arrive a claimant
to a past of religious spokes, tied to an
eight by eight fold path, where no one
and everyone, all at once, is devil and
divine
tempted by Heaven, tied to Pure Land
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tkk
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