My Cathedral

Like two cathedral towers these stately pines
  Uplift their fretted summits tipped with cones;
  The arch beneath them is not built with stones,
  Not Art but Nature traced these lovely lines,
And carved this graceful arabesque of vines;
  No organ but the wind here sighs and moans,
  No sepulchre conceals a martyr's bones.
  No marble bishop on his tomb reclines.
Enter! the pavement, carpeted with leaves,
  Gives back a softened echo to thy tread!
  Listen! the choir is singing; all the birds,
In leafy galleries beneath the eaves,
  Are singing! listen, ere the sound be fled,
  And learn there may be worship without words. 

The day after my dad's funeral, we took his ashes to his favorite place and had our own ceremony. I recited this poem from a book that he had found for me at a yard sale a few months earlier.

JackGrey JackGrey
51-55, F
2 Responses Feb 24, 2009

This reminds me of something I read about Emily Carr.

Beautiful :)