House of Prayer
I would like to build a palace for the Lord
made of marble and gold. Brilliant,
and intimidating in the morning sun.
But I have neither the money
nor the knowledge to build such a home.
I do have some rope and these branches
I gathered. This place beneath the pines.
Here is canvas from our tent,
some wool blankets and a pile
of soft, sweet-scented grass.
Together we will tie and lash and drape,
dig a pit for a fire, sing hymns from childhood,
drag over an old stump for the table where
we will say simple words of thanks over soup and bread.
All the time hoping that the light from the fire,
the smell of soup bubbling, the sound of our voices,
and the warmth of our live will be enough
to lead the Lord home.
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