June 29, 2014
I close my eyes.
I hear the scratch of pen on paper.
I feel the breeze of bodies walking past.
I sense soft footsteps on the carpet.
A brass bowl on the chancel
fills with burdens of those present.
An ambulance siren breaks the silence,
a reminder of burdens outside our sanctuary.
Voices rise to praise the opening of roses,
as flames flash from the brass bowl,
our burdens gone in a blaze
bright and sudden as a solar flare.
Ashes, or the memory of ashes,
Lead us to the spirit that is life.
Grace. Hope. Love.
I depart with my heart in a holy place.