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So I've been kicking around an idea for a post for a couple of weeks now but I haven't really had time to sit down and bang it out (whaaaaaat? Things are busy at work?!). It should be one of the more important ones I've written so far so I want to get it right. Way back in the beginning of the blog, though, I did promise some poetry or short stories as I saw fit, so this week I'll be sharing a poem I wrote on Ash Wednesday. Hope you like!


The Tomb, the Beast, the Sea (On the Occasion of Ash Wednesday, 2012)

The priest hunched, with ash-blacked thumb,
Comfortable and sheepish in his jeans and
Tennis shoes, murmuring,
Hands hovering over the gifts.

What am I? The ash that clung
To the corpse of Lazarus come forth,
Or the heart that beat blood anew, coursing that
Thumb with life?

Am I Peter, shirtless, with garment tucked,
in the midst of the leap,

Or am I Jonah, foot-splayed on the roiling deck?
Weeping -
at my foolishness,
weeping -
at the Love in which I am caught,
the Love that reaches me out
in the great gape of the beast,

that reaches me out
in the salt spray of the deep.

No, I am Peter, foot-deep in the swell,
Eyes on Him.

But for how long?

How long til I slip
And He reach his hand for me,
To grasp me in the crook of his staff,

In that goodness and kindness
which hound me relentlessly?

The priest straightened,
And with the ash, the thumb, the wheat,
I am raised,

Caught up in the tomb, the beast, the sea,
Caught up in Him
Who catches, catches,

And catches.

Ah, but is this not Lent?