Day 12 of Poetry Month

I wrote this for someone I followed on Twitter for awhile. She was a minister (not sure what denomination) and believed in the need for physical churches. I do not.

Religiously Free

For Anna

My cathedral is an open meadow;

Its roof is the crisp blue sky, its floor holds

Wild grasses, overgrown and baked by an August sun.

My clergy are grasshoppers and ants,

With cicada choirboys covering the silence

With everlasting joy.

My hymn is my own life,

Starting out quiet and slow,

Building gradually

Until I reach nirvana.

My god is my god,

Not your god,

Not your God.

My god cannot be shared,

For she is in me.

© Catherine Woods 2012