Riffs on a hidden subject
In the Cathedral of the Constellations, candles burn on the altars. The ritualized patterns of hands moving in the air. Kneelers worn by decades of devotion. The stone labyrinth on the floor. Prayers echo in the wooden rafters, there among the primary elements of the universe—faith hope, doubt, community, kindness, despair, and love.
Those who grieve don’t need words of sympathy. They need our hugs and presence.
