Awakening

Circumstances have forced me to practice religious rituals that I don't really understand.  When I cross in front of a cross, I genuflect. When I sit in a pew where kneelers are provided, I kneel. When I am afraid, I recite a psalm.  


I am not a religious person, 
Practiced in the art of submission. 
Religious belief and  
Rituals seem to build walls 
That separate me from God. 
I adapted the rituals 
To my own spiritual path, 
The path that wanders in and out of 
Circumstances written just for my journey.   


On my window sill the light from the sun 
Is a table so bright and  
So beautiful that even a fraction 
  would come to list 
  the joys and exclamations 
On the road where  sages and 
dancing girls sing their names.  


The morning after my First communion, 
Poems were sung by every bird I could hear. 
If I Ever was awakened to life, 
I Heard notes  
That day, 
Notes that were completely new to me, 
Recited in songs  
By birds I had never noticed before. 
My heart was now opened to the 
Mother of poems.