I prefer the kind of spirituality
Which harbours no intention
To make me feel small
Or subject to the judgment of others
Not even gods
Just as I have no desire
To judge anyone
Not even myself
A condition
Which I am ever on the path
Of unlearning
I enter a cathedral
As if into warped space
Not warped as a physicist might think
But as in how a mystic might think
That is, a spiritual space or dimension
Bent, folded and manipulated
To conform to a specific configuration
Long ago transcribed into books
From collective memories
Predating written language
Aside from a certain wonder
At the passion and dedication
To the exquisite expression
Of humanity’s greater achievements
In art and architecture
A cathedral reminds me
Of the power of group thinking
For both good and ill
How this can become a tight leash
On an individual whose spirit
Simply refuses to conform
But it also reminds me
Of the exultant satisfaction
I experienced
When I finally broke the leash
Chose my own path
And found my way to a spiritual space
Which conformed to me
Not that I am without
My own warped sense of spiritual dimension
But the distortion is familiar to me
Has meaning for me
And brings me to a place of peace
Raised beneath
Steeples and spires
Kneeling Sitting Standing
In pews row on row
First Holy Communion
Confirmation
Confession
Ash Wednesday
Palm Sunday
Incense and palm leaves
Midnight Mass
Now another confession:
Never a believer
Earliest memories
Saying what was expected
Doing what was expected
Praying aloud the lie on my lips
Though there were Pastors
Two at least
Who made as much
A philosophy of sermon
As theology
Who bespoke love
And compassion
Forgiveness
And kindness
As if these were as important
As believing in Father, Son and Holy Ghost
I kept the compassionate love
Discarded the trinity
And for a long while
Wanted nothing to do
With religion
Or the religious
Until I finally saw
The strength faith gives my mother
Courage, resilience, tenacity
Powered by compassion, love and kindness
All in God’s name
Now I understand
Something about the nature of goodness
And the many paths we may travel
To bring ourselves to the love
Which is its foundation
In the company of worshipers
Some for God
Some for his house
But I think on it
And in the reflect I see
I prefer Love’s House
Which is any house
Where there’s you and me
Poverty
Inequity
Subjugation
Though I rather imagine such a society
Would have little interest
In erecting such grand monuments
Perhaps such a society
Would be too busy building
On its commitment to
Love
Compassion
Generosity
Bishops under Cardinals
Princes of the capital
Too all manner of celebrity
Still I prefer simplicity
Whose condition leaves them most to gain
While every pittance rendered unto greedy hand
Far too much where hope of sustenance is lain
Yet they, it ever seems, offer most without demand
It’s none of these I see today
By price of entry held at bay
Once was the time when pews were filled
By those allowed the least of say
Spirit moved
By the artistry
By the grandeur
By the grace
I know there are saints
Not like these saints
I know there are angels
Not like these angels
I know there is god
Not like this god
I know there is heaven
Not like this heaven
Spirit moved
By these metaphors
Manifest
In the people
I have known
In the places
I have been
In the light
I have seen
In the grace
I have experienced
In the beauty
I have created
A God
In which I had no
Faith
Prayers and rites
In which I found no
Substance
Riding the
Pendulum’s
Swing
Content there
With logic and
Fact
I explored the bounds
Of science and
Philosophy
Discovering
A realm well beyond
Knowledge
Pix to Words 