Day of Prayer at Lake Louise

I stood on a mountain
and looked out over an evergreen valley
walled ’round by majestic sandstone spires
glistening with snow.

The numinous cloud-play
of light and shadows
over forest and peaks
stir deep within me
sacred ancestral stories.

I am Moses
ascending Mount Sinai
heart quaking, eyes upturned to
the cloud-shrouded peak,
drawn inexorably higher
into the swirling mist.

I am Elijah
at the mouth of his cave
standing transfixed
by the sound of a gentle breeze
whispering through the pines.

I am Peter
on his knees in the boat
his nets and heart bursting
with more than he had ever hoped to catch,
overcome, unable to respond to the bounty before him.

I am Mary Magdalene
on Easter morn
able only to gasp in astonishment,
humanly trying to embrace
the Ungraspable.

I am Moses
before the burning bush,
prostrate in spirit
soul all unshod
capable only of looking up
in wonder.

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