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
So sweet, especially those last two lines that both land the poem so nicely and make me smile!
all One
"...sacred love fills the place spilling beyond." Another baptism, perhaps..."
I love the interspiritual tone of this poem, and the agility of mind
This little gem, splendid!
How special