I’ve always thought that
THE HOLY
was never a Place
so much as
A PERSON
and more intimately. . .
Y O U
and from that came
THIS:
I went to Church
it wasn’t Church-ing
I went to the Playground
it was no longer a ground for play
I went to the Movies
they weren’t movie-ing
I went to the Show
it wasn’t showing
I went to the Concert Hall
it had been silently hall’ed away
I went to the Park
it was prohibitedly parked
I went to the Mall
it had indefinitely been mall’ed shut
I went to the Store
it had been mostly stored away
I went Home
it had been homed sheltered up
and though familiar
so utterly unrecognizable
and then
Then I journeyed in
to a cavern
to a nook
to a creaky cranny
I seldom visit
And there
t h e r e
was the holy
an altar not often knelt before
a communion rarely shared
a hymn not yet sung
a litany never recited
a homily vaguely strange
(maybe imagined)
a benediction
challenging to go forth
and make a difference
while urging me to stay
and know a sacred distinction
May be
(be it may)
that what’s Holy
is THAT which is
WHOLLY
ME
Perfectly Imperfect
ME
Ahhhhhhhhhhh
Christmas, Easter, New Year’s Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Eid Al-Fitr, Eid Al-Adha, Diwali, Holi, Vesak, Parinirvana Day, Chinese New Year’s
At Once
Wholly
Holy
In Me
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