In my cathedral


I stood in rain and asked,
“why me?”
when the key would not unlock the door
I turned my back to retrace my steps
when I saw the calligraphy
in the tracery, of my cathedral
that framed the stained window
it was delicate, the hand worked it steady
the art withstood the fiercest storms
it was deliberate, you could see
the lines spoke so
it was there before my eyes
had I not been locked out,
I would not have seen it,
Alone, I took it in, selfishly
I read the message
and before the end
the child in me smiled
her soft voice rose above the storm
as she asked the question
with wonder,
and without entitlement,
“why not?”

a dawn bird

7 thoughts on “In my cathedral”

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