Ash Wednesday

On my knees, discovering denial, deprivation,

receiving only what the ashes can reveal, fate, eternity,

naked to the suffering, humbled by Christ’s bleeding

for me, for you, on this dusty desert trail of sacrifice.

I can hear the voice of God, not out there, in here

no incantations of a distant deity destined to burn

but my humanity reduced to ashes, forty lashes

naked to the suffering, humbled by Christ’s bleeding

for you, for me, on this dusty desert trail weeping.

My yesterday is dead and today is fleeting, like yours,

if we care to consider tomorrow is a train leaving

a station we cannot reach, a fare we cannot afford

naked to the suffering, humbled by Christ’s bleeding

for me, for you, on a dusty desert trail standing alone.

A penitent man knees, as pride stands defiant, daring,

we can argue details, but theology is out of place

and surrender and humility and mercy fill the void

naked to the suffering, stained by Christ’s bleeding

for me, for you, on this dusty desert trail repenting.

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