Baptism

Baptism

In a sanctuary that seats 
600 for mass, fourteen 
people gather in love, 
holding my Buddhist son 
as the priest’s dog Tucker, 
wanders

A simple table in front 
of the altar—white cloth, 
glazed hand-thrown bowl
of holy water
three times Father Simon 
dips his hand
blesses Bird’s bowed head     
sacred love fills the place 
spilling beyond

After, I ask my middle-aged son 
who understands
nothing is separate 
how he reconciles the doctrine 
of God the Father
He replies with light-filled eyes
meditating
and a little twist of mind