Church on the Rock, Sedona
Some prayers should be said with eyes open,
When nature’s expanse is so vast in scope,
And God’s house is a grey cement tent.
The minute and the infinite are one,
Formed from the same inner mind,
Both discernible. And all the red is red.
Don’t kneel. Rise. Look outward,
Why else are the windows here?
One should reach this place by walking.
The tiered parking lot a sorry necessity,
Choked as it is with buses and RVs.
Hearts of the faithful turned touristic,
Just as this house has become
A den of photographers.