REVERENCE

 

I enter the forest as one

stepping into a chapel,

tender footsteps, hushed voice.

My church is an old growth forest,

a congregation of trunks and wings
and paws,

where we Two-Leggeds must

remember we are guests. 

I catch my breath at pungent moss

and old man's beard draped

on branches, tip

back my head to venerate

tall spires, admire the way

the sun shines through

the canopy,
gilding salmonberry
and salal.

Jay and owl and raven,

form the choir, wind whooshing

through the boughs, the orchestra.

Earth is springy underfoot,

soft with pine needles.
In the forest
I am not my thinking brain;
I am my feeling heart.
Within such beauty,
I believe.

The forest is my church,

each rough and mottled trunk

a standing prayer. It breathes

its blessings on we who enter in.

The forest is my church,

trees my religion.

Here there is only
one way to walk:
with reverence.

Inspired by Reverence by Marianne Kunkel