Altar of Stone

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I have come to the cathedral of God
and find Her home.
She throws open Her arms in welcome,
anoints my soul with the smell of warm pine,
lifts my spirit on the wings of eagles.

I stand in awe of Her sanctuary.
Where architecture of man might use stained glass,
waterfalls wrapped in rainbow ribbons
catch the light,
draw eyes to their beauty.

Hand chiseled walls of pure granite,
a thousand stories high,
delicately painted over millions of years
by fire and ice, hardship and love,
draw my tears of penance.

And in narrow cracks, earth gives footing
to manzanita, pine and oak
where She dabbles in the ancient,
patient art of bonsai
on a megalithic scale.

An offering of sweat seems proper
and on the mountainside is proffered.
She holds my hand and lends me strength
as I climb and climb into thin air
to overlook the full, unimaginable grandeur.

Imagine the crushing, grinding
pressure of the massive weight of glaciers.
Is that what one must bear to gain
this depth and breadth of serenity?
Or may I simply borrow some?

I peel away my skin of everyday
and lie upon glistening granite,
where the Sun God comes
to worship in me.
Yosemite!


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  • COMMENTS
13 Comments
8scoops8scoopsover 14 years ago
This poem

is a work of art. Thank you for sharing your vision and your talent.

duddle146duddle146about 17 years ago
Lovely.

A beautiful ethereal poem ~ so poetically right and imagery outstanding ~ a delightful read.

LeBrozLeBrozover 17 years ago
~~

Exhalting in the world of the natural,

Where all things are possible;

And self-appointed overseers pale to insignificance,

Along with the imaginary master they've created.

Bill DadaBill Dadaover 18 years ago
Your Poem is

as majestic and awesome as your subject matter.

ty,bd

SappholoversSappholoversalmost 20 years ago
Not all of paradise paved over

This poem offers a beautiful complement (or counter) to "I am California," as it offers a hymn to one of the special places where the beauty of California has not been erased. Now I would love to see Syndra continue to offer us in her words a literary topological map or a poetic geological guide to other places of remarkable natural beauty in California (including two of my favorites: the desert areas described by Mary Austin in "The Land of Little Rain" and San Onofre's nude beach).

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