Now here’s a story: I was made aware of this poem through my good friend Barbara. Over a lush brunch spread at the Wayside Inn the past summer, between conversations on personal lives and, I don’t know, summer plans? My internship? The conversation somehow touched on ethics, from there, religion. Barbara told me she wasn’t exactly religious, but rather she was spiritual. She believed in non-harming—to self, to nature, and you see, there was actually a great poem her mother wrote in the latter’s younger years that reflects what Barbara was trying to say on that particular topic (I later begged her to send me the copy). If I remember correctly, the story went something like this: her mother penned her thoughts, motivated by a little friendly competition with a friend over who could write a better poem. Out came “My Cathedral,” and presuming that there was a fair judge of the contest etc. etc., Madelyn won.