Come to us, unmasked and alone.
You who are weary of breathing your own stale words,
Come into our silence that transforms gasps into spirit.
Come close and walk softly on our hallowed ground,
Rediscovering the holiness of dirt.
Walk where honeysuckle incense whispers joy
And choir birds sing to quiet your internal ranting.
Come dwell here when the congregations shutter,
And all the world shelters in but carries on.
Find your way beneath old legacy oaks
Telling their tales of offering refuge.
Come weep beneath the hickory leaves,
Shimmering in a canopy when troubles press in.
Their sunlit dance will lift your eyes to the heavens
Where dreams of sweeter times are born.
Come be disconnected among sassafras sprouts
And receive a reprieve from daily counts of disease.
Feel the paw paws dare you to utter words like
Optimistic and joy without feeling ridiculous.
Come lie beneath a tulip poplar mast,
With billowing flowered bells that carry daydreams.
Wander in the gift of whim and fantasy
That awakens the spirit of peace.
Come smell cedar’s aromatic memory
Filling you with delight beyond your intellect.
Sweet as ironweed dancing with walnut trees
Just because the wind blows.
Come fall on your knees when you cannot contain
The beauty of bluebells blooming near a spotted fawn,
And give thanks for the essential woods
That have healed us again.
-- The Rev. Becca Stevens, posted on Facebook Oct. 26, 2020
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