The imposition of ashes has been observed in RC churches for many many years, but not so long ago it began to be offered in my church also, a protestant church. Some were uncomfortable with it, but I was open to the experience. I wanted to see how it felt, how I reacted.
Below is a poem that I'm just drafting. I will want to come back to it, but I offer this much to you for this month's consideration.
Ashes
They crumble
And sift through fingers
Soft as feathers
A mote in the eye
They are the leavings
Cindery grey
Greasy black
A bit of grit
They surprise me
the way they seep
into my wrinkles
my skin -- alien
They speak of deep grief
Utter hopelessness
This little pile of elements
fragments on the wind
They lack spark
They mark an end -- yet
I come willingly
Remembering
They mark truth
They slow my breath
They lower my eyes
They repeat
We all encounter them
Walk through them
And with God's grace
Some day
again
arise
© Karen Eastlund
Thanks to Ruth Hersey for hosting today and giving us this topic. It challenged me and I almost skipped, but perhaps the ashes themselves enabled this bud. Find other posts in our spiritual journey group here.
