Wednesday, March 05, 2014

A Poem Draft

Ash Wednesday

Time is burning us, leaving only ash,
black residue of deeds repented,
and yet, somehow, the ashes suit us,
repentance being the source of our growth:
not dirty but pure is the ash of the fire,
wisdom, nobler than rubies, that crowns,
emblem of hope and sign of our greatness,
not mark of Cain but anointing flame.

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